thar, Tennessee!" in a loud, boyish halloo, was a command when
danger was ahead, which she obeyed with the readiness of a veteran.

Sometimes, however, this incongruous companionship became irksome to
him. Her trusting, insistent affection made her a clog upon him,
and he grew impatient of it.

Ah, little Sister! he learned its value one day.

The great wood fire was all aflare in the deep chimney-place.
Savory odors came from the gridiron and the skillet and the hoe, on
the live coals drawn out on the broad hearth. The tow-headed
children grew noisy as they assembled around the bare pine table,
and began to clash their knives and forks.

Birt, unmindful, crouched by the hearth, silently turning his
precious specimens about, that he might examine them by the
firelight. Tennessee, her chuffy hand on his shoulder, for she
could reach it as he knelt, held her head close to his, and looked
at them too with wide black eyes. His mother placed the supper on
the table, and twice she called to him to come, but he did not hear.
She turned and looked down at him, then broke out sharply in
indignant surprise.

"Air ye bereft o' reason, Birt Dicey! Ye set thar nosin' a handful
o' rocks ez ef they war fitten ter eat! An' now look at the boy--a
stuffin' 'em in his pockets ter sag 'em down and tear 'em out fur me
ter sew in ag'in. Waal, waal! Sol'mon say ef ye spare the rod ye
spile the child--mos' ennybody could hev fund that out from thar own
'sperience; but the wisest man that ever lived lef' no receipt how