Book: Sonny, A Christmas Guest

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'An' then I reckon he frets her a good deal in school. Somehow, seems
like he thess picks up enough in the other schools to be able to
conterdic' her ways o' teachin'.

F' instance, in addin' up a colume o' figgers, ef she comes to a
aught--which some calls 'em naughts--she'll say, "Aught's a aught," an'
Sonny ain't been learned to say it that a-way; an' so maybe when she
says, "Aught's a aught," he'll say, "Who said it wasn't!" an' that puts
her out in countin'.

He's been learned to thess pass over aughts an' not call their names;
and once-t or twice-t, when wife called 'em out that a-way, why, he got
so fretted he thess gethered up his things an' went to another school.
But seem like she's added aughts that a-way so long she can't think to
add 'em no other way.

I notice nights after she's kept school for Sonny all day she talks
consider'ble in her sleep, an' she says, "Aught's a aught" about ez
often ez she says anything else.

Oh, yas, sir; he's had consider'ble fusses with his teachers, one way
an' another, but they ever'one declare they think a heap of 'im.

Sir? Oh, yas, sir; of co'se they all draw their reg'lar pay whether he's
a day in school du'in' the month or not. That's right enough, 'cause you
see they don't know what day he's li'ble to drop in on 'em, an' it's
worth the money thess a-keepin' their nerves strung for 'im.

Well, yas, sir; 't is toler'ble expensive, lookin' at it one way,
but lookin' at it another, it don't cost no mo' 'n what it would to
edjercate three child'en, which many poor families have to do--_an'
more_--which in our united mind Sonny's worth 'em all.

Yas, sir; 't is confusin' to him in some ways, goin' to all three
schools at once-t.

F' instance, Miss Alviry Sawyer, which she's a single-handed maiden lady
'bout wife's age, why, of co'se, she teaches accordin' to the old rules;
an' in learnin' the child'en subtraction, f' instance, she'll tell 'em,
ef they run short to borry one f'om the nex' lef' han' top figur', an'
pay it back to the feller underneath him.

Well, this didn't suit Sonny's sense o' jestice no way, borryin' from
one an' payin' back to somebody else; so he thess up an argued about
it--told her thet fellers thet borried nickels f'om one another couldn't
pay back that a-way; an' of co'se she told him they was heap o'
difference 'twix' money and 'rithmetic--which I wish't they was more in
my experience; an' so they had it hot and heavy for a while, till at
last she explained to him thet that way of doin' subtraction _fetched
the answer_, which, of co'se, ought to satisfy any school-boy; an' I
reckon Sonny would soon 'a' settled into that way 'ceptin' thet he got
out o' patience with that school in sev'al ways, an' he left an' went
out to Sandy Crik school, and it thess happened that he struck a
subtraction class there the day he got in, an' they was workin' it the
_other_ way--borry one from the top figur' an' never pay it back at all,
thess count it off (that's the way I 've worked my lifelong subtraction,
though wife does hers payin' back), an' of co'se Sonny was ready to
dispute this way, an' he didn't have no mo' tac' than to th'ow up Miss
Alviry's way to the teacher, which of co'se he wouldn't stand,
particular ez Miss Alviry's got the biggest school. So they broke up in
a row, immejate, and Sonny went right along to Miss Kellogg's school
down here at the cross-roads.

She's a sort o' reformed teacher, I take it; an' she gets at her
subtraction by a new route altogether--like ez ef the first feller thet
had any surplus went sort o security for them thet was short, an' passed
the loan down the line. But I noticed he never got his money back, for
when they come to him, why, they docked him. I reckon goin' security is
purty much the same in an out o' books. She passes the borryin' along
some way till it gits to headquarters, an' writes a new row o' figur's
over the heads o' the others. Well, my old brain got so addled watchin'
Sonny work it thet I didn't seem to know one figur' f'om another 'fo' he
got thoo; but when I see the answer come, why, I was satisfied. Ef a man
can thess git his answers right all his life, why nobody ain't a-goin'
to pester him about how he worked his figur's.

I did try to get Sonny to stick to one school for each rule in
'rithmetic, an' havin' thess fo' schools, why he could learn each o' the
fo' rules by one settled plan. But he wont promise nothin'. He'll quit
for lessons one week, and maybe next week somethin' else 'll decide him.
(He's quit ever' one of 'em in turn when they come to long division.)
He went thoo a whole week o' disagreeable lessons once-t at one school
'cause he was watchin' a bird-nest on the way to that school. He was
determined them young birds was to be allowed to leave that nest without
bein' pestered, an' they stayed so long they purty nigh run him into
long division 'fo' they did fly. Ef he'd 'a' missed school one day he
knowed two sneaky chaps thet would 'a' robbed that nest, either goin'
or comin'.

Of co'se Sonny goes to the exhibitions an' picnics of all the schools.
Last summer we had a time of it when it come picnic season. Two schools
set the same day for theirs, which of co'se wasn't no ways fair to
Sonny. He payin' right along in all the schools, of co'se he was
entitled to all the picnics; so I put on my Sunday clo'es, an' I went
down an' had it fixed right. They all wanted Sonny, too, come down to
the truth, 'cause besides bein' fond of him, they knowed thet Sonny
always fetched a big basket.


[Illustration: "He was watchin' a bird-nest on the way to that school."]


Trouble with Sonny is thet he don't take nothin' on nobody's say-so,
don't keer who it is. He even commenced to dispute Moses one Sunday when
wife was readin' the Holy Scriptures to him, tell of co'se she made him
understand thet that wouldn't do. Moses didn't intend to _be_
conterdicted.

An' ez to secular lessons, he ain't got no espec' for 'em whatsoever.
F' instance, when the teacher learned him thet the world was round, why
he up an' told him _'t warn't so_, less'n we was on the inside an' it
was blue-lined, which of co'se teacher he insisted thet we was _on the
outside_, walkin' over it, all feet todes the center--a thing I've
always thought myself was mo' easy said than proved.

Well, sir, Sonny didn't hesitate to deny it, an' of co'se teacher he
commenced by givin' him a check--which is a bad mark--for conterdictin'.
An' then Sonny he 'lowed thet he didn't conterdic' to _be_
aconterdictin', but he _knowed't_ warn't so. He had walked the whole
len'th o' the road 'twix' the farm an' the school-house, an' they warn't
_no bulge in it_; an' besides, he hadn't never saw over the edges of it.

An' with that teacher he give him another check for speakin' out o'
turn. An' then Sonny, says he, "Ef a man was tall enough he could see
around the edges, couldn't he?" "No," says the teacher; "a man couldn't
grow that tall," says he; "he'd be deformed."

An' Sonny, why, he spoke up again, an' says he, "But I'm thess a-sayin'
_ef_," says he. "An' teacher," says he, "we ain't a-studyin' _efs_;
we're studyin' geoger'phy." And then Sonny they say he kep' still a
minute, an' then he says, says he, "Oh, maybe he couldn't see over the
edges, teacher, 'cause ef he was tall enough his head might reach up
into the flo' o' heaven." And with that teacher he give him another
check, an' told him not to dare to mix up geoger'phy an' religion, which
was a sackerlege to both studies; an' with that Sonny gethered up his
books an' set out to another school.

I think myself it 'u'd be thess ez well ef Sonny wasn't quite so quick
to conterdic'; but it's thess his way of holdin' his p'int.

Why, one day he faced one o' the teachers down thet two an' two didn't
_haf_ to make _fo_', wh'er or no.

This seemed to tickle the teacher mightily, an' so he laughed an' told
him he was goin' to give him rope enough to hang hisself now, an' then
he dared him to show him any two an' two thet didn't make fo', and Sonny
says, says he, "Heap o' two an' twos don't make four, 'cause they're
kep' sep'rate," says he.

"An' then," says he, "I don't want my two billy-goats harnessed up with
nobody else's two billys to make fo' billys."

"But," says the teacher, "suppose I _was_ to harness up yo' two goats
with Tom Deems's two, there'd be fo' goats, I reckon, whether you wanted
'em there or not."

"No they wouldn't," says Sonny. "They wouldn't be but two. 'T wouldn't
take my team more 'n half a minute to butt the life out o' Tom's team."

An' with that little Tommy Deems, why, he commenced to cry, an' 'stid o'
punishin' him for bein' sech a cry-baby, what did the teacher do but
give Sonny another check, for castin' slurs on Tommy's animals, an'
gettin' Tommy's feelin's hurted! Which I ain't a-sayin' it on account o'
Sonny bein' my boy, but it seems to me was a mighty unfair advantage.

No boy's feelin's ain't got no right to be that tender--an' a goat is
the last thing on earth thet could be injured by a word of mouth.

Sonny's pets an' beasts has made a heap o' commotion in school one way
an' another, somehow. Ef 't ain't his goats it's somethin' else.

Sir! Sonny's pets? Oh, they're all sorts. He ain't no ways partic'lar
thess so a thing is po' an' miser'ble enough. That's about all he seems
to require of anything.

He don't never go to school hardly 'thout a garter-snake or two or a
lizard or a toad-frog somewheres about him. He's got some o' the little
girls at school that nervous thet if he thess shakes his little sleeve
at 'em they'll squeal, not knowin' what sort o' live critter'll jump out
of it.

Most of his pets is things he's got by their bein' hurted some way.

One of his toad-frogs is blind of a eye. Sonny rescued him from the old
red rooster one day after he had nearly pecked him to death, an' he had
him hoppin' round the kitchen for about a week with one eye bandaged up.

When a hurted critter gits good an' strong he gen'ally turns it loose
ag'in; but ef it stays puny, why he reg'lar 'dopts it an' names it
Jones. That's thess a little notion o' his, namin' his pets the family
name.

The most outlandish thing he ever 'dopted, to my mind, is that old
yaller cat. That was a miser'ble low-down stray cat thet hung round the
place a whole season, an' Sonny used to vow he was goin' to kill it,
'cause it kep' a-ketchin' the birds.

Well, one day he happened to see him thess runnin' off with a young
mockin'-bird in his mouth, an' he took a brickbat an' he let him have
it, an' of co'se he dropped the bird an' tumbled over--stunted. The bird
it got well, and Sonny turned him loose after a few days; but that cat
was hurted fatal. He couldn't never no mo' 'n drag hisself around from
that day to this; an' I reckon ef Sonny was called on to give up every
pet he's got, that cat would be 'bout the last thing he'd surrender. He
named him Tommy Jones, an' he never goes to school of a mornin', rain or
shine, till Tommy Jones is fed f'om his own plate with somethin' he's
left for him special.

Of co'se Sonny he's got his faults, which anybody 'll tell you; but th'
ain't a dumb brute on the farm but'll foller him around--an' the nigger
Dicey, why, she thinks they never was such another boy born into the
world--that is, not no human child.

An' wife an' me--

But of co'se he's ours.

I don't doubt thet he ain't constructed thess exac'ly ez the
school-teachers would have him, ef they had their way. Sometimes I have
thought I'd like his disposition eased up a little, myself, when he
taken a stand ag'in my jedgment or wife's.

Takin' 'em all round, though, the teachers has been mighty patient with
him.

At one school the teacher did take him out behind the school-house one
day to whup him; an' although teacher is a big strong man, Sonny's
mighty wiry an' quick, an' some way he slipped his holt, an' fo' teacher
could ketch him ag'in he had clumb up the lightnin'-rod on to the roof
thess like a cat. An' teacher he felt purty shore of him then, 'cause he
'lowed they wasn't no other way to git down (which they wasn't, the
school bein' a steep-sided buildin'), an' he 'd wait for him.

So teacher he set down close-t to the lightnin'-rod to wait. He wouldn't
go back in school without him, cause he didn't want the child'en to know
he'd got away. So down he set; but he hadn't no mo' 'n took his seat
sca'cely when he heerd the child'en in school roa'in' out loud, laughin'
fit to kill theirselves.

He lowed at first thet like ez not the monitor was cuttin' up some sort
o' didoes, the way monitors does gen'ally, so he waited a-while; but it
kep' a-gittin' worse, so d'rectly he got up, an' he went in to see what
the excitement was about; an'lo and beholt! Sonny had slipped down the
open chimbly right in amongst 'em--come out a-grinnin', with his face
all sooted over, an', says he, "Say, fellers," says he, "I run up the
lightnin'-rod, an' he's a-waitin' for me to come down." An' with that he
went an' gethered up his books, deliberate, an'fetched his hat, an'
picked up a nest o' little chimbly-swallows he had dislodged in comin'
down (all this here it happened thess las' June), an' he went out an'
harnessed up his goat-wagon, an' got in. An' thess ez he driv' out the
school-yard into the road the teacher come in, an' he see how things
was.

Of co'se sech conduct ez that is worrisome, but I don't see no, to say,
bad principle in it. Sonny ain't got a bad habit on earth, not a-one.
They'll ever' one o' the teachers tell you that. He ain't never been
knowed to lie, an' ez for improper language, why he wouldn't know how to
select it. An' ez to tattlin' at home about what goes on in school, why,
he never has did it. The only way we knowed about him comin' down the
school-house chimbly was wife went to fetch his dinner to him, an' she
found it out.


[Illustration: "He had been playin' out o' doors bare-feeted."]


She knowed he had went to that school in the mornin', an' when she
got there at twelve o'clock, why he wasn't there, an' of co'se she
questioned the teacher, an' he thess told her thet Sonny had been
present at the mornin' session, but thet he was now absent. An' the
rest of it she picked out o' the child'en.

Oh, no, sir; she don't take his dinner to him reg'lar--only some days
when she happens to have somethin' extry good, or maybe when she
'magines he didn't eat hearty at breakfast. The school-child'en they
always likes to see her come, because she gen'ally takes a extry lot o'
fried chicken thess for him to give away. He don't keer much for nothin'
but livers an' gizzards, so we have to kill a good many to get enough
for him; an' of co'se the fryin' o' the rest of it is mighty little
trouble.

Sonny is a bothersome child one way: he don't never want to take his
dinner to school with him. Of co'se thess after eatin' breakfas' he
don't feel hungry, an' when wife does coax him to take it, he'll seem to
git up a appetite walkin' to school, an' he'll eat it up 'fo' he gits
there.

Sonny's got a mighty noble disposition, though, take him all round.

Now, the day he slipped down that chimbly an' run away he wasn't a bit
flustered, an' he didn't play hookey the balance of the day neither. He
thess went down to the crik, an' washed the soot off his face, though
they say he didn't no more 'n smear it round, an' then he went down to
Miss Phoebe's school, an' stayed there till it was out. An' she took him
out to the well, an' washed his face good for him. But nex' day he up
an' went back to Mr. Clark's school--walked in thess ez pleasant an'
kind, an' taken his seat an' said his lessons--never th'owed it up to
teacher at all. Now, some child'en, after playin' off on a teacher that
a-way would a' took advantage, but he never. It was a fair fight, an'
Sonny whupped, an' that's all there was to it; an' he never put on no
air about it.

Wife did threaten to go herself an' make the teacher apologize for
gittin' the little feller all sooted up an' sp'iln' his clo'es; but she
thought it over, an' she decided thet she wouldn't disturb things ez
long ez they was peaceful. An', after all, he didn't exac'ly send him
down the chimbly nohow, though he provoked him to it.

Ef Sonny had 'a' fell an' hurted hisself, though, in that chimbly, I'd
'a' helt that teacher responsible, shore.

Sonny says hisself thet the only thing he feels bad about in that
chimbly business is thet one o' the little swallers' wings was broke by
the fall. Sonny's got him yet, an' he's li'ble to keep him, cause he'll
never fly. Named him Swally Jones, an' reg'lar 'dopted him soon ez he
see how his wing was.

Sonny's the only child I ever see in my life thet could take young
chimbly-swallers after their fall an' make em' live. But he does it
reg'lar. They ain't a week passes sca'cely but he fetches in some hurted
critter an' works with it. Dicey says thet half the time she's afeerd to
step around her cook-stove less'n she'll step on some critter thet's
crawled back to life where he's put it under the stove to hatch or thaw
out, which she bein' bare-feeted, I don't wonder at.

An' he has did the same way at school purty much. It got so for a-while
at one school thet not a child in school could be hired to put his hand
in the wood-box, not knowin' ef any piece o' bark or old wood in it
would turn out to be a young alligator or toad-frog thawin' out. Teacher
hisself picked up a chip, reckless, one day, an' it hopped up, and
knocked off his spectacles. Of cose it wasn't no chip. Hopper-toad frogs
an' wood-bark chips, why, they favors consider'ble--lay 'em same side
up.

It was on account o' her takin' a interest in all his little beasts
an' varmints thet he first took sech a notion to Miss Phoebe Kellog's
school. Where any other teacher would scold about sech things ez he'd
fetch in, why, she'd encourage him to bring 'em to her; an' she'd fix
a place for 'em, an' maybe git out some book tellin' all about 'em, an'
showin' pictures of 'em.

She's had squir'l-books, an' bird-books, an' books on nearly every sort
o' wild critter you'd think too mean to _put_ into a book, at that
school, an' give the child'en readin'-lessons on 'em an' drawin'-lessons
an' clay-moldin' lessons.

Why, Sonny has did his alligator so nach'l in clay thet you'd most
expec' to see it creep away. An' you'd think mo' of alligators forever
afterward, too. An' ez to readin', he never did take no interest in
learnin' how to read out'n them school-readers, which he declares don't
no more'n git a person interested in one thing befo' they start on
another, an' maybe start _that_ in the middle.

The other teachers, they makes a heap o' fun o' Miss Phoebe's way
o' school-teachin', 'cause she lets the child'en ask all sorts of
outlandish questions, an' make pictures in school hours, an' she
don't requi' 'em to fold their arms in school, neither.

Maybe she is foolin' their time away. I can't say ez I exac'ly see how
she's a workin' it to edjercate 'em that a-way. I had to set with my
arms folded eight hours a day in school when I was a boy, to learn the
little I know, an' wife she got her edjercation the same way. An' we
went clean thoo f'om the _a-b abs_ an' _e-b ebs_ clair to the end o' the
blue-back speller.

An' we learned to purnounce a heap mo' words than either one of us has
ever needed to know, though there has been times, sech ez when my wife's
mother took the phthisic an' I had the asthma, thet I was obligated to
write to the doctor about it, thet I was thankful for my experience in
the blue-back speller. Them was our brag-words, phthisic and asthma was.
They's a few other words I've always hoped to have a chance to spell in
the reg'lar co'se of life, sech ez y-a-c-h-t, yacht, but I suppose,
livin' in a little inland town, which a yacht is a boat, a person
couldn't be expected to need sech a word--less'n he went travelin'.

I've often thought thet ef at the Jedgment the good Lord would only
examine me an' all them thet went to school in my day, in the old
blue-back speller 'stid o' tacklin' us on the weak pints of our pore
mortal lives, why, we'd stand about ez good a chance o' gettin' to
heaven ez anybody else. An' maybe He will--who knows?

But ez for book-readin', wife an' me aint never felt called on to read
no book save an' exceptin' the Holy Scriptures--an', of cose, the seed
catalogues.

An' here Sonny, not quite twelve year old, has read five books thoo, an'
some of 'em twice-t an' three times over. His "Robinson Crusoe" shows
mo' wear'n tear'n what my Testament does, I'm ashamed to say. I've done
give Miss Phoebe free license to buy him any book she wants him to have,
an' he's got 'em all 'ranged in a row on the end o' the mantel-shelf.

Quick ez he'd git thoo readin' a book, of co'se wife she'd be for
dustin' it off and puttin' up on the top closet shelf where a book
nach'ally belongs; but seem like Sonny he wants to keep 'em in sight.
So wife she'd worked a little lace shelf-cover to lay under 'em, an'
we've hung our framed marriage-c'tificate above 'em, an' the corner
looks right purty, come to see it fixed up.

Sir? Oh, no; we ain't took him from none o' the other schools yet. He's
been goin' to Miss Phoebe's reg'lar now--all but the exhibition an'
picnic days in the other schools--for nearly five months, not countin'
off-an'-on days he went to her befo' he settled down to it stiddy.

He says he's a-goin' there reg'lar from this time on, an' I b'lieve he
will; but wife an' me we talked it over, an' we decided we'd let things
stand, an' keep his name down on all the books till sech a time ez he
come to long division with Miss Kellog.

An' ef he stays thoo that, we'll feel free to notify the other schools
thet he's quit.




SONNY'S DIPLOMA

[Illustration: 'Y']


Yas, sir; this is it. This here's Sonny's diplomy thet you've heerd so
much about--sheepskin they call it, though it ain't no mo' sheepskin 'n
what I am. I've skinned too many not to know. Thess to think o' little
Sonny bein' a grad'jate--an' all by his own efforts, too! It is a
plain-lookin' picture, ez you say, to be framed up in sech a fine gilt
frame; but it's worth it, an' I don't begrudge it to him. He picked out
that red plush hisself. He's got mighty fine taste for a country-raised
child, Sonny has.

Seem like the oftener I come here an' stan' before it, the prouder I
feel, an' the mo' I can't reelize thet he done it.

I'd 'a' been proud enough to've had him go through the reg'lar co'se
o' study, an' be awarded this diplomy, but to 've seen 'im thess walk
in an' demand it, the way he done, an' to prove his right in a fair
fight--why, it tickles me so thet I thess seem to git a spell o' the
giggles ev'y time I think about it.

Sir? How did he do it? Why, I thought eve'ybody in the State of Arkansas
knowed how Sonny walked over the boa'd o' school directors, an' took a
diplomy in the face of Providence, at the last anniversary.

I don't know thet I ought to say that either, for they never was a
thing done mo' friendly an' amiable on earth, on his part, than the
takin' of this dockiment. Why, no; of co'se he wasn't goin' to that
school--cert'n'y not. Ef he had b'longed to that school, they wouldn't
'a' been no question about it. He 'd 'a' thess gradj'ated with the
others. An' when he went there with his ma an' me, why, he'll tell you
hisself that he hadn't no mo' idee of gradj'atin' 'n what I have this
minute.

An' when he riz up in his seat, an' announced his intention, why, you
could 'a' knocked me down with a feather. You see, it took me so sudden,
an' I didn't see thess how he was goin' to work it, never havin' been to
that school.

Of co'se eve'ybody in the county goes to the gradj'atin', an' we was all
three settin' there watchin' the performances, not thinkin' of any
special excitement, when Sonny took this idee.

It seems thet seein' all the other boys gradj'ate put him in the notion,
an' he felt like ez ef he ought to be a-gradj'atin', too.

You see, he had went to school mo' or less with all them fellers, an'
he knowed thet they didn't, none o' 'em, know half ez much ez what he
did,--though, to tell the truth, he ain't never said sech a word, not
even to her or me,--an', seein' how easy they was bein' turned out, why,
he thess reelized his own rights--an' demanded 'em then an' there.

Of co'se we know thet they is folks in this here community thet says
thet he ain't got no right to this dipiomy; but what else could you
expect in a jealous neighborhood where eve'ybody is mo' or less kin?

The way I look at it, they never was a diplomy earned quite so upright
ez this on earth--never. Ef it wasn't, why, I wouldn't allow him to have
it, no matter how much pride I would 'a' took, an' do take, in it. But
for a boy o' Sonny's age to've had the courage to face all them people,
an' ask to be examined then an' there, an' to come out ahead, the way he
done, why, it does me proud, that it does.

You see, for a boy to set there seein' all them know-nothin' boys
gradj'ate, one after another, offhand, the way they was doin', was
mighty provokin', an' when Sonny is struck with a sense of injestice,
why, he ain't never been known to bear it in silence. He taken that from
_her_ side o' the house.

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