Mr. Bill had come over to our house one Sunday to dinner. I
knew from his looks upon entering that he had something to communicate.
As soon as dinner was over, and he could decently do so,
he proposed a walk to me. My father was much amused at the
intimacy between us, and I could sometimes observe a quiet smile
upon his face when we would start out together upon one of our
afternoon strolls. As I was rather small for nine, and Mr. Bill rather
large for nineteen years old, I suppose it was somewhat ludicrous to
observe such a couple sustaining to each other the relation of equality.
Mr. Bill seemed to regard me as fully his equal except in the matter
of size, and I had come to feel as much ease in his society as if he
had been of my own age. By his residence in town he had acquired

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some sprightliness of manner and conversation which made him more
interesting to me than formerly. This sprightliness was manifested
by his forbearing to call me Squire persistently, and varying my name
with that ease and freedom which town-people learn so soon to
employ. This was interesting to me.

When we had gotten out of the yard and into the grove, Mr. Bill
began:

“Oh, my friend, friend of my boyhood's sunny hour, I've been nigh
and in about a dyin to see you, especially sence night afore last —
sence I caught old Jonah.”

“Have you caught him, Mr. Bill?”

“Caught him! Treed him. Not ezactly treed him neither; but
runned him to his holler. I told you I was goin to do it.”

Seeing that I did not clearly understand, Mr. Bill smiled with
delight at the felicitous manner in which he had begun his narrative.
We proceeded a little farther to a place where a huge oak-tree had
protruded its roots from the ground. There we sat, and he resumed:

“Yes, Sir, I runned him right into his holler. And now, Squire,
I'm goin to tell you a big secret; and you are the onliest man,
Phillmon Pearch, that I've told it, becase, you see, the circumsances
is sich that it won't do to tell too many people nohow; becase you see
Mr. Lively he ar a curis sort o' man, I'm afeard. And then you
know, Philip, you and me has been thick and jest like brothers, and
I'll tell to you what I wouldn't tell to no monstous powerful chunce o'
people nohow. And ef it was to git out, people, and specially other
people, mout say that — ah — I didn't — ah — do ezactly right. And
then thar's Cousin Malviny Hodge. Somehow Cousin Malviny she
aint — somehow she aint ezactly like she used to be in Daniel Hodge's
life-time. Wimming is right curis things, Squire, specially arfter thar
husbands dies. I never should a believed it of her arfter what I've
heern her say and go on about that old feller. But wimming's wimming;
and they ar going to be so always. But that's neither here
nor thar: you mustn't let on that I said a word about him.”

I felt flattered by this the first confidential communication I had
ever received, and promised secrecy.

“Well, you see, Squire Phil, I axed Mr. Lively as far and civil
question as one gentleman could ax another gentleman, becase I
thought that people had a right and was liable to know somethin about
a man who live in the neighborhood, and been a livin thar for the last

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two year and never yit told a human anything about hisself, exceptin
it mout be to Daniel Hodge, which he are now dead and gone, and
not even Cousin Malviny don't know. Leastways didn't. I don't
know what she mought know now. Oh wimming, wimming! They
won't do, Philip. But let 'em go. I axed Mr. Lively a civil question.
One day when he come in the sto' I axed him as polite and civil as
I knowed how about gittin a little bit acquainted along with him, and
which I told him I was friendly, and also all about my father comin
from North Calliner, thinkin may be, as he come from thar too, he
mout have a sorter friendly to me in a likewise way, ef he didn't
keer about bein so monstous powerful friendly to the people in ginerl,
which the most of 'em, you know, like your folks, they mostly come
from old Firginny. You see I sorter slyly baited my hook with old
North Calliner. But nary bite did I git — no, nary nibble. The old
fellow look at me mighty interestin while I war a goin on about the
old country, and arfter I got through he smiled calm as a summer
evenin like — so to speak — and then I thought we was goin to have
a good time. Instid o' that, he axed me ef I war ever expectin to
ever go thar, and then said that I ought to go thar by all means and
see them old people; and then he sorter hinted agin me for axin about
him bein from thar, becase he was mighty particler to say that them
old people in ginerly was mighty fond o' tending to their own business
and lettin t'other people's alone. Which I don't have to be kicked
down stairs befo' I can take a hint. And so I draps the subject;
which in fact I was obleeged to drap it, becase no sooner he said it
he went right straight immejantly outen the sto'. But, thinks I to
myself, says I, I'll head you yit, Mr. Lively. I'll find out sumthin
about you, ef it be only whether that head o' har ar yourn or not.”

“Is it a wig?” I asked.

“Phillimon,” said Mr. Bill, in a tone intended to be considered as
remonstrative against all improper haste — “Phiilemon Pearch, when
a man ar goin to tell you a interestin circumsance about a highly
interestin character, so to speak, you mustn't ax him about the last
part befo' he git thoo the first part. If you does, the first part mout
not have a far chance to be interestive, and both parts mout, so to
speak, git mixed up and confused together. Did you ever read
Alonzo and Melissy, Phil?”

I had not.

“Thar it is, you see. Ef you had a read Alonzo and Melissy you

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would not a ax the question you did. In that novyul they holds back
the best for the last, and ef you knowed what it was all goin to be
you wouldn't read the balance o' the book; and which the man, he
knowed you wouldn't, and that made him hold it back. And which I
war readin that same book one day, and Angeline Spouter she told
me that nary one of 'em wan't goin to git killed, and that they got
married at the last, and which then I wouldn't read the book no longer,
and which I war gittin sorter tired anyhow, becase I got very little
time from my business to be readin novyuls anyhow.”

I was very sorry that I had asked the question.

“No, Philmon, give every part a far chance to be interestin. I
give Jonas Lively a far chance; but the diffic-ulty war he wouldn't
give me one, and I tuck it. I'm goin to take up Mr. Lively all over.
He ar a book, Sir — a far book. I'll come to his har in time.”

Mr. Bill readjusted himself between the roots of the old oak so as
to lie in comfort in a position where he could look me fully in the face.

“You see, Squire,” he continued, “Cousin Malviny Hodge, she ar
sort o' kin to me, and we always calls one another cousin. The
families has always been friendly and claimed kin, but I don't blieve
they ever could tell whar it started, but it war on Cousin Malviny's
side, leastways John Simmonses, her first husband, who his father he
also come from North Calliner. I used to go out thar sometimes and
stay all night; but I haint done sich a thing sence Mr. Lively have
been thar. One thing, you know, becase he sleeps in the office, and
the onliest other place for a man to sleep at thar is the t'other shed-room
on the t'other side o' the pe-azer from Susan Temple's room,
and which about three year ago they made a kind of a sto' outen
that. The very idee of callin that a sto'! It makes Mr. Bland laugh
every time I talk about Cousin Malviny's sto'. I jest brings up the
subject sometimes jest to see Mr. Bland laugh and go on. Mr.
Bland, you know, Philip, ar the leadin head pardner, and one of the
funniest men you ever see. Mr. Jones ar a monstous clever man, but
he ar not a funny man like Mr. Bland, not nigh.”

This compliment of Mr. Bill to his employer I considered proper
enough, although I could have wished that he had made fewer remarks
which appeared to me to be so far outside of the subject. But I knew
that he lived in town, and I think I had a sort of notion that such
persons had superior rights as well as superior privileges to mere
country people. Still I was extremely anxious on the wig question.

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Mr. Bill had told me strange things about wigs. He assured me that
they were scalped from dead men's heads, and I did not like to think
about them at night.

“But,” continued he, “as I was a sayin, they aint been no convenant
place for a man to sleep thar sence they had the sto', as they
calls it, exceptin a feller was to sleep with Mr. Lively; and I should
say that would be about as oncomfortable and ontimely sleepin as
anybody ever want anywhar and stayed all night. And which I've no
idee that Mr. Lively hisself would think it war reasonable that anybody
mout be expected to sleep with him, nor him to sleep with any other
man person. When a old bachelor, Philmon, git in the habit o'
sleepin by hisself for about fifty year, I spose he sorter git out o' the
way of sleepin with varus people, so to speak, and — ah — he ruther
not sleep with other people, and which — ah — well, the fact ar, by
that time he aint fitten too sleep with nobody. I tell you, Phlimmon
Pearch, befo' I would sleep with Jonas Lively, specially arfter knowin
him like I does, I would — ah — I'd set up all night and nod in a
cheer — dinged ef I wouldn't!”

Mr. Bill could not have looked more serious and resolute if he had
been confidently expecting on the night of that day an invitation from
Mr. Lively to share his couch.

“Hadn't been for that,” he went on, “I should a been thar sooner
than I did. But arfter he seem so willin and anxious for me to go to
North Calliner, I thinks I to myself I'll go out to Cousin Malviny's,
and maybe she'll ax me to stay all night, and then she can fix a place
for me jest for one night: I sposen she would make a pallet down on
the flo' in the hall-room. So Friday evenin I got leaf from Mr. Jones
to go away from the sto' one night. He sleep thar too, you know,
and they warn't no danger in my goin away for jest one night. So
Friday evenin I went out, I did, to supper, and I sorter hinted around
that if they was to invite me I mout stay all night, ef providin that
it war entirely convenant; specially as I wanted a little country ar
arfter bein cooped up so long in town — much as I loved town I had
not got out o' all consate for country livin and country ar, and so
forth.”

Mr. Bill showed plainly that he knew all about how to bamboozle
Cousin Malviny, and country folks generally.

“Cousin Malviny were monstous glad to see me, she say; and I tell
you, Squire, Cousin Malviny are right jolly lately. She look better

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and younger'n any time I seen her sence she married Hodge ten year
ago. Oh, wimming, wimming! But that's neither here nor thar;
you can't alter 'em, and let 'em go. Cousin Malviny said her house
war small but it war stretchy. I laughed, I did, and said I would let
it stretch itself one time for my accommidation. Then Cousin
Malviny she laughed, she did, and looked at Mr. Lively, and Mr.
Lively he come mighty nigh laughin hisself. As it war, he look like
I war monstous welcome to stay ef I felt like it. As for Susan
Temple, she look serious. But that gurl always do look serious
somehow. I think they sorter puts on that poor gurl. She do all the
work about the house, and always look to me like she thought she
have no friends.

“Well, be it so. I stays; and we has a little talk, all of us together
arfter supper; that is, me and Cousin Malviny and Mr. Lively.
Which I told you he had no manners, becase he don't pull off that hat
even at the table. Oh well, he moutn't. But never mind that now;
give every part a far chance to be interestin. We has a talk together,
and which Mr. Lively are in ginerly a better man to talk to than I
thought, leastways at his own home. That is, it ar Cousin Malviny's
home in cose; but I tell you, Phlimmon Pearch, she look up monstous
to the old man these days. Oh, wimming, wimming! But sich it ar,
and you can't alter it. Mr. Lively and me talk freely. He ax me
freely any question he mout please. Our convisation war mostly in
his axin o' me questions, and me a answerin 'em. He seem to look
like he thought I did not keer about axin him any more: which he
did see me once lookin mighty keen at his head o' har. And what
do you sposen he done then? He look at me with a kind of a
interestin smile, and said I ought by all means to go some time and see
old North Calliner. And somehow, Squire, to save my life I couldn't
think o' nothin to answer back to him. I knowed he had caught me,
and I tried to quit lookin at his old head. The fact of it is, ef Mr.
Lively say old North Calliner to me many more times, I shall git out
o' all consate of the place and all them old people over thar. Cousin
Malviny she sorter smile. She look up to the old man more'n she
used to. But you can't alter 'em, and t'aint worth while to try. But I,
thinks I to myself, old fellow, when I come here I owed you ONE;
now I owe you TWO. You may go 'long.

“Well, arfter a while, bed-time, hit come, and Mr. Lively he went
on out to the office; which, lo and behold! I found that Susan had

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made down a pallet in Cousin Malviny's room, and I war to take
Susan's room. I sorter hated that, and didn't have no sich expectation
that the poor gurl she have to sleep on the flo' on my account;
and I told Cousin Malviny so, and which I could sleep on a pallet
myself in the hall-room. But Cousin Malviny wouldn't hear to it.
Susan didn't say yea nor nay. They puts on that gurl, shore's you
ar born. But that aint none o' my business, and so I goes in to the
little shed-room. And arfter all I war right glad o' that arrangement,
becase it give me a better chance for what I wanted to do, and was
detumined too do ef I could. I war bent on findin out, ef I could find
out, ef that head o' har which Mr. Lively had on his head war his'n.
That's what I went out thar for. I had axed him a civil question and
he had give me a oncivil answer, and I war bent on it now more'n ever,
becase I couldn't even look at his head without gittin the same oncivil
answer and bein told that I ought to go and see North Calliner and all
them old people thar, which I'm beginnin not to keer whether I ever
sees 'em or not, and wish daddy he never come from thar. But I
runned him to his holler.”

Mr. Bill then rose from the ground. What he had to say now
seemed to require to be told in a standing attitude.