Nobody thet ever lived in Simpkinsville would claim thet rows couldn't be raised, I'm shore, after all the fuss thet's been made over puttin' daytime candles in our 'piscopal church. Funny how folks'll fuss about sech a little thing when, ef they'd stop to think, they's so many mo' important subjec's thet they could git up diffe'nces of opinion on. I didn't see no partic'lar use in lightin' the candles myself, bein' ez we didn't need 'em to see by, an' shorely the good Lord thet can speak out a sun any time he needs a extry taper couldn't be said to take no pleasure in a Simpkinsville home-dipped candle. But the way I look at it, seem like ef some wants em, why not? Th' ain't nothin' mo' innercent than a lighted candle,--kep' away up on the wall out o' the draft, the way they are in church,--an' so, when it come to votin' on it, why, I count peace an' good-will so far ahead o' taller thet I voted thet I was good for ez many candles ez any other man would give. An' quick ez I said them words, why, Enoch Johnson up an' doubled his number. It tickled me to see him do it, too. Enoch hates me thess because he's got a stupid boy--like ez ef that was any o' my fault. His Sam failed to pass at the preliminar' examination, an' wasn't allowed to try for a diplomy in public; an' Enoch an' his wife, why, they seem to hold it ag'in' me thet Sonny could step in at the last moment an' take what their boy could n't git th'oo the trials an' tribulations of a whole year o' bein' teached lessons at home an' wrestled in prayer over. I ain't got a thing ag'in' Enoch, not a thing--not even for makin' me double my number o' candles. Mo' 'n that, I'd brighten up Sam's mind for 'im in a minute, ef I could. I never was jealous-hearted. An' neither is Sonny. He sent Sam a special invite to his gradj'atin' party, an' give him a seat next to hisself so's he could say "Amen" to his blessin', thess because he had missed gittin' his diplomy. Everybody there knowed why he done it. But talkin' about Sonny being "raised," I told Miss Phoebe thet we'd _haf_ to stop sayin' it about _him_, right or wrong, ez a person can't raise nothin' higher 'n what he is hisself, an Sonny's taller 'n either wife or me, an' he ain't but sixteen. Ef we raised 'im partly, we must 'a' sent 'im up the rest o' the way. It's a pleasure to pass a little joke with Miss Phoebe; she's got sech a good ear to ketch their p'ints. But, come to growin', Sonny never asked nobody no odds. He thess stayed stock-still ez long ez he found pleasure in bein' a little runt, an' then he humped hisself an' shot up same ez a sparrer-grass stalk. It gives me pleasure to look up to him the way I haf to. Fact is, he always did require me to look _up_ to 'im, even when I looked _down_ at 'im.