a flour-barrel.

"Why, yes, those are very clean; but you seem to be just a little
dusty yourselves, aren't you?"

"Yas'm," agreed Trusty, while Ezekiel brushed him with doubtful
success. "Kin ole Sam'el Smiff dus' 'em?"

"Samuel Smith? I don't think Samuel ever did dust them----"

"'Cuz me 'n' 'Zekiel kin dus' 'em good's dat 'mos' _any_ time; cyan't
we, 'Zekiel?"

By the time that school was ready to begin that morning, there stood a
stately line of "visitors from the North" across Miss North's room,
ready for enlightenment on the Negro Problem. And as Miss North began:
"We are having a new month to-day, children; who can tell me what the
name of the month is?" the line drew itself up, preparatory to getting
right down to the heart of the matter.

"What month, class?"

"February!"

"Yes; very good. Is February a short month or a long month?"

There was an unfortunate difference of opinion:

"Short!" "Long!" "Short!" "Long!" "_Short!_" "_Long!_"