Part 31 (1/2)

”Here,” he went on, ”this is how she says of them kids: 'You can't jest lay down reg'lations fer feedin'. Jest feed 'em natural, an' if they git a pain dose 'em with physic. Ther's some things you must kep 'em from gittin' into their stummicks. Kindlin' wood is ridiculous fer them to chew, ther' ain't no goodness in it, an' it's li'ble to run slivvers into their vitals. Sulphur matches ain't good fer 'em to suck. I ain't got nothing to say 'bout the sulphur, but the phospherus is sure injurious, an', anyway, it's easy settin' 'emselves afire.

Kids is ter'ble fond of sand, an' gravel, an' mud, inside an' out.

Outside ain't no harm, 'cep' it keps you was.h.i.+n' 'em, but inside's likely to give 'em colic. Don't let 'em climb on tables an' things.

Ther' never was a kid who could climb on to a table but what could fall off. Don't let 'em lick stove-black off a hot cookstove. This don't need explainin' to folk of ord'nary intelligence. Coal is for makin' a fire, an' ain't good eatin'. Boilin' water has its uses, but it ain't good play fer kids. Guns an' knives ain't needed fer kids playin' Injun. These things is jest general notions to kep in your head fer ord'nary guidance. Kids' clothes needs was.h.i.+n' every Monday--with soap. Mebbe you'll need to wash every day if kids is frolicsome. Bow-ties is for Sunday wear. Girl's hair needs braidin'

every night, an' don't leave chewin' t'baccer around. Kids is sure to eat it. Best give 'em physic every Sat.u.r.day night, an' bath 'em Sunday mornin'. Don't use no hand scrubber. If you can't git through the dirt by ord'nary was.h.i.+n', best leave it. Kids is tender-skinned anyway.

After their bath set 'em out in the sun, an' give 'em an elegant Bible talk. Ther' ain't nothin' like a Bible talk fer kids. It sets 'em wise to religion early, an' gives 'em a good impression o' the folks raisin' 'em. Ef they ast too many questions you need to answer 'em with discretion--'”

”Wot's she mean by that?” asked Toby, all interest in the ma.s.s of detail.

”Mean? Why--” Bill paused considering.

Sunny looked up from his writing.

”Why, don't say fool things fer the sake of ga.s.sin'!” he explained readily. ”Everything you tell 'em needs a moral.”

”Moral?” murmured Toby vaguely.

”Yes, moral.”

But Sandy saw a chance of restoring his fallen prestige, and promptly seized upon it.

”Moral,” he said, beaming with self-satisfaction, ”is handin' a lesson all wrop up in fancy words so's to set folks cussin' like mad they can't understand it, an' hatin' themselves when they're told its meanin'. Now, if I was goin' to show you what a blamed idjut you was without jest sayin' so--”

”Shut up!” cried Bill. And without waiting for a reply he read on, ”'--with discretion. If you treat kids proper they mostly raise themselves, which is jest Natur'. Don't worry yourself, 'less they fall into a swill-barrel, or do some ridiculous stunt o' that natur'--an' don't worry _them_. Ther' ain't no sense to anybody goin'

around with notions they ken flap their wings, an' cluck like a broody hen; an' scratchin' worms is positive ridiculous. Help 'em when they need help, otherwise let 'em fall around till they knock sense into theirselves. Jest let 'em be kids as long as Natur' fancies, so's when they git growed up, which they're goin' to do anyways, they'll likely make elegant men an' women. Ef you set 'em under gla.s.s cases they'll sure get fixed into things what gla.s.s cases is made to hold--that's images. I don't guess I kin tell you nothin' more 'bout kids, seein' I ain't a mother, but jest a pot-wolloper.'”

Bill folded the paper as he finished reading, and silently handed it across to the secretary. Somehow he seemed impressed with the information the paper contained. The whole meeting seemed impressed.

Even Sandy had no comment to offer, while Toby resorted to biting his forefinger and gazing stupidly at the opposite wall. It was Sunny who finally broke the silence.

”Guess I'll jest writ' out the chief points fer Zip's guidance?” he asked.

Bill nodded.

”That's it, sure,” he agreed. ”Jest the chief points. Then you'll hand it to Zip to-morrer mornin', an', ef he needs it, you can explain wot he ain't wise to. I'd like to say right here that this hash-slinger has got savvee. Great big savvee, an' a heap of it. I ain't a h.e.l.l of a lot on the kid racket, they mostly make me sick to death. In a manner o' speakin', I don't care a cuss for Zip nor his kids. Ef they drown theirselves in a swill-bar'l it's his funeral, an' their luck, an' it don't cut no ice with me. But, cuss me, ef I ken stand to see a low-down skunk like this yer James come it over a feller-citizen o'

Suffering Creek, an' it's our duty to see Zip gits thro'. I'm sore on James. Sore as h.e.l.l. I ain't no Bible-thumpin', mush-hearted, push-me-amongst-the-angels feller anyways. An' you boys has got to git right on to that, quick.” He glared round at his friends defiantly, as though daring them to do otherwise. But as n.o.body gave a sign of doubt on the subject, he had no alternative but to continue. ”I'm jest sore on James an'--” He hesitated for the fraction of a second, but went on almost immediately. ”--ther' may come a time when the play gits busy.

Get me? Wal,” as Sandy and Sunny nodded a.s.sent, and Toby sat all eyes for the speaker, ”this yere Trust is a goin' concern, an', I take it, we mean business. So, though we ain't runnin' a noospaper, maybe we'll need a fightin' editor after all. If we need a fightin' editor we'll sure need a fightin' staff. That's jest logic. I'll ast you right here, is you boys that fightin' staff? If so, guess I'm fightin'

editor. How?”

His eyes were on Sunny Oak. And that individual's unwashed face broadened into a cheerful grin.

”Fightin' don't come under the headin' of work--proper,” he said.

”Guess I'm in.”

Bill turned on Sandy.

”You ain't got the modest beauty o' the vi'let,” he said, with saturnine levity. ”How you feelin'?”