The Refugio Review. (Refugio, Tex.), Vol. 5, No. 38, Ed. 1 Friday, November 22, 1912 Page: 8 of 8
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MBS MINERVA
and
WILLIAM GREEN Ifllli
JfeANCES Boyd Calhoun
(Copyright, by Reilly & Britton Co.)
CHAPTER XIV,—Continued.
Jimmy seeing no hope of eluding
Sarah Jane's vigilance, resorted to
strategy and deceit.
" ’Tain't no fun setting out here,” he
called to her, “so I’m going in the
hpuse and take a nap.”
She wilingly consented, as she was
through with her ironing and thought
to snatch a few winks of sleep her-
self.
The little boy slipped quietly through
the house, noiselessly across the back
yard and into his father’s big gar-
den, which was separated from that
of his neighbor ty a high board fence.
He quickly climbed the fence, flew
across Miss Minerva's tomato patch
and tiptoed up her back steps to the
back porch, his little bare feet giving
no sign of his presence. ^Tearing cu-
rious noises coming from the bath
room, where Billy was bumping the
chair up and down in his efforts to re-
lease his mouth, he made for that
spot, promptly unlocked the door and
walked in. Billy by scuffling and tug-
ging had freed his mouth from the
towel that bound it at that mo-
ment
“Hush!” he whispered as Jimmy
opened the door, “you’ll get eat up
alive if you don’t look out.” His tone
Mras so mysterious and thrilling and
he looked so scared tied to the chair
that the younger boy’s blood almost
froze in bis veins.
“What you doing all tied up so?”
he asked, in low, frightened tones.
“Mr.‘ Algernon Jones done / it. I
spec’ he’s a robber an' is Jes’ a-rob-
•herin' right now,” answered Billy.
"I’ll untie you,” said his chum.
“Naw; you better not,” said Billy
bravely. “He might git away. You
leave me jes’ like he fixed me so’s
you can try to ketch him. I hear him
in the dinin’ room now. You leave
me right here an’ step over to yo’
house an’ phone to some mens to
come and git him quick. Shet the do’
ag’in an’ don’t make no noise. Fly,
now!"
And Jimmy did fly. He again took
the-garden route and in a minute was
at the telephone with the receiver to
his ear.
“Hello! Is that you, Miss Central?
This is me,” he howled into the trans-
mitter. “Gimme Miss Minerva’s beau.
I don’t know his number, but he’s got
a pfflce over my papa’s bank.”
His father being out of town, the
little boy shrewdly decided that Miss
Minerva’s beau'was the next best man
to help capture the robber.
“Miss Minerva what lives by me,”
he shrieked.
Fortunately Central recognized his
spoons from the sideboard to his pock-
ets when a noise at the dining room
door caused him to look in that di-
rection. With an oath he sprang for-
ward, and landed his# fist upon the
nose of a plump gentleman standing
there, bringing a stream of blood and
sending him sprawling to the floor
Mr. Jones overturned a big-eyed little
boy who was in his way, and walk-
ing rapidly in the direction of the rail-
road, the erstwhile plumber was seen
no more.
Jimmy quickly recovered himself
and sprang to his feet. Seeing the
blood streaming down the white shirt
front of Miss 'Minerva’s unconscious
beau, he gathered his wits together
and took the thread of events again
into his own little hands. He flung
himself over the fence careless of
Sarah Jane this time, mounted a chair
and once more rang the telephone.
“Hello! Is that you, Miss Central?
This is me some more. Gimme Dr.
Sanford’s office please.”
“Hello! Is that you, doctor? This
is me. Mr. Algernon Jones done kilt
Miss Minerva’s beau. He’s on her
back porch bloody all over. He’s ’bout
the deadest man they is. You’d better
come toreckly you can and bring the
hearse, and a coffin and a clean shirt
and a tombstone. He’s wounded me
but I ain’t dead yet. Goodby.”
Dr. Sanford received Jimmy's crazy
message in astonishment. He, too,
rang the telephone again and again,
but could hear nothing more, so he
walked down to Miss Minerva’s house
and rang the door bell. Jimmy open-
ed the door and led the way to the
back porch, where the Injured man,
who had just recovered consciousness,
was sitting limply In a chair.
“What does all this mean? Are you
hurt?” asked the doctor as he exam-
ined Mr. Jones’ victim.
“No, I think I’m all right now,” was
the reply; "but that scoundrel certain-
ly gave me a severe blow.”
Billy, shut up in the bath room and
listening to all the noises and confu-
soin, had been scared nearly out of his
senses. He had kept still as a mouse
till now, wrhen thinking he heard
friendly voices he yelled out: “Open
the do’ an’ untie me.”
“We done forgot Billy,” said the
little rescuer, as he ran to the bath
room door and opened it. He was
followed by the doctor, who cut the
cords that bound the prisoner.
“Now, William,” commanded Dr.
Sanford, as they grouped themselves
around the stout, plump .gentleman in
the chair, “begin at the beginning,
and let us get at the bottom of this.”
“Mr. Algernon Jones he come to the
gate,” explained the little boy, “an’ he
say he goin’ to fix the water pipe an’
yon a nap is ynh, yuh ’ceitful eaten B-
lar. Coma on home dis minute.”
“Lemme go, Sarah Jane,” protetk
ed the little boy trying to jerk aw^f
from her, “I got to stay here anil
pertec’ Billy and Miss Minerva’s beauu
’cause they’s a robber might come
back and tie ’em up and make ’eut
bleed if I ain’t here.”
“Did Mr. Algernon Jones make all
that blood?” asked the awe-strickeJi
little boy gazing In admiration at this
victim of Mr. Jones’ energy. “You sho’
is a hero to stan’ up an’ let him knock
you down like he done.”
“Yes,” cried Jimmy, as the black
woman dragged him kicking and strug-
gling through the hall, “we’s all he-
roes, but I bet I’m the heroest hero
they Is, and I bet Miss Minerva’s go-
ing to be mad ’bout you all spilling all
that blood on her nice clean floor.”
“Lemme see yo’ big toe what was
shot off by all them Yankees and In-
juns what you kiljed In the war,” said
Billy to Miss Minerva’s beau.
The major smiled at the little boy;
a man-to-man smile, full of good com-
radeship, humor and understanding.
my sweet-
,'Who? that HttSe old Jimmy Gar-
net-? I hope I don’t talk like that
chicken; he a ’bout the measliest boy
that is and I like you ’nother sight
better’n him. You’re a plumb jim-
dandy, Billy, came from the door-
way.
“So’s you,” howled back the delight-
ed and flattered Billy.
Jimmy thought he would pop
wide open in his efforts to keep rrom
laughing.
“How’d you like to be *
heart?” he asked.
“I’s already promised to marry
Miss Cecilia when I puts on long
pants, but if we ever gets a ’vorce I’d
’nother sight ruther have you ’n
anybody., You can be my lady frien.’,
anyhow,” was the loud reply.
“I’m coming for you to go riding In
my little pony and cart,” said a gig-
gling Jimmy.
“All right, I’s going to ask Aunt Mi-
nerva to lemme go. Can’t we take
Jimmy, top?”
This was too much for the little
boy. He-had held himself in as long
as possible. He burst into a peal of
/I
1/
U
The Major Smiled at the Little Boy, a Man-to-Man Smile,
neart went out to him
.^Sk^p
W
^7 K
mi*
v
1 •€/.
Landed Upon the Nose of a Plump Gentleman.
childish voice and was willing to hu-
mor him, so as she too knew Miss
Minerva’s beau the connection was
quickly made.
“Hello! Is that you, major? This
is me. If you don’t want Mr. Alger-
non Jones to be robbering everything
Miss Minerva’s got you getter get a
move on and come right this minute.
You got to hustle and bring ’bout a
million pistols and guns and swords
and tomahawks and all the mans you
can find and dogs. He’s the fiercest
robber ever was, and he’s already
done tie Billy to the bath room chair
and done eat up ’bout a million cold
biscuits, I spec’. Ail of us is ’bout
to be slewed. Goodby."
The plump, round gentleman at the
ether end of the wire heard this amaz-
ing message in the utmost confusion
and consternation. He frantically rang
the telephone again and again but
could get no answer from the Gar-
ner’s home so he put on his hat and
walked the short distance to Miss Mi-
nerva's house.
Jimmy was waiting to receive him
at the front gate, having again eluded
Sarah Jane’s vigilanc*.
“Hush!” he whispered mysterious-
ly, “he’s in the dining room. Ain’t
you bringed nobody else? Get your
pistol and come on.”
Mr. Algernon Jones, feeling safe
and secure for the next hour and hav-
ing partaken of a light lunch, was in
■'tea aojt at transferring some silver
he say he’s a plumber. He’s a very
’greeable man, but I don’t want Aunt
Minerva to marry him, now. I was
plump tickled at him an’ I tuck him
to the bath room an’ fust thing I
knowed he grabbed holter me an
shuck me like what you see a cat
do a mouse, an’ he say—”
“And he’d more’n a million whis-
kers,” interrupted Jimmy, who
thought Billy was receiving too much
attention, “and he—”
“One at a time,” said the doctor.
“Proceed, William.”
“An’ he say he’ll bust my brains out-
er my head if I holler, an’ I ain’t a-
goln’ to holler neither, an’ he tie me
to a chair an’ tie my mouth up an’
lock the do’—
“And I corned over,” said Jimmy,
eagerly, “and I run home and I see
Mr. Algernon Jones Is a robber an’ I
’phoned to Miss Minerva’s beau, and if
he’d brunged what I telled him, he
wouldn’t never got cracked in the face
like Mr. Algernon Jones done crack
him, ahd Billy got to all time let rob-
bers in the house so they can knock
mans and little boys down.”
“While you stand talking here the
scoundrel will get away,” said the in-
jured man.
“That’s so,” agreed Dr. Sanford,
“so I’ll go and find the sheriff.”
Sarah Jane’s huge form loomed up
In the back hall doorway, and she
grabbed Jimmy by the arm.
"Yaas,” she cried, “you gwins take
Billy’s little
at once.
“I can’t' take off my shoes at present,”
said the veteran. “Well, I must be go-
ing; I feel all right now.”
Billy looked at him with big, sol-
emn eyes.
“You couldn’t never go ’thout yo’
pants, could you?” he asked, “’cause
Aunt Minerva jest nachelly despises
pants.”
The man eyed him quizzically.
“Well, no; I don’t think I could,”
he replied: “I don’t think I'd look any
better in a Mother Hubbard or a ki-
mono,” —
The little boy sighed.
“Which you think is the flttenest
name,” asked he, “Billy or William?”
“Billy, Billy,” enthusiastically came
the reply.
“I like mens,” said William Green
Hill. “I sho‘ wisht’ you could come
and live right here with me and Aunt
Minerva.”
"I wish so, too,” said the major.
CHAPTER XV.
Billy, the Credulous.
After the advent and disappearance
of the exciting Mr. Jones, Miss Mi-
nerva, much to Billy’s joy, had a tele-
phone put in the house. He sat in the
hall the day it was put in waiting for
it to ring.
Jimmy, coming up on the front
porch and through the half-open door
and seeing him sitting there, rang
the door bell just for a jok^,
ready to burst into a laugh when
the other little boy turned around and
saw who it was. Billy, however, in
his eagerness mistook the ring for the
telephone bell and joyfully climbed up
on the chair, which he had stationed
in readiness. He took down the re-
ceiver as he had seen Jimmy do in his
home, and, without once seeing that
little boy standing a few feet from
him, he yelled at the top of his
lungs:
“Hello! Who Is that?.”
“This is Marie Yarbrough,” replied
Jimmy from the doorway, instantly
recognizing Billy’s mistake.
Marie Yarbrough was a little girl
much admired by the two boys, as she
had a pony and a cart of her very own.
However, she lived in a different part
of the town and attended another Sun-
“You Got to Say It,” Insisted the Vic-
tor.
day school, so they had no speaking
acquaintance with her.
“I jus’ wanted to talk to you,” went
on the counterfeit Marie, stifling a
laugh and trying to talk like a girl.
“I think you’re ’bout the sweetest lit-
tle boy there is and I want you to
come to my party.”
“I sho’ will,” screamed the gratified
Billy, “If Aunt Minerva’ll lemmfe.
What makes you talk so much like
Jimmy
c
laughter so merry and so loud that
Billy, turning quickly, almost-1611 out
of the chair.
“What you doin’, a-listening to me
talk to Marie Yarbrough th’oo the tel-
ephone?” he questioned angrily.
“Marie you pig’s foot,” was the in-
elegant response. “That was just me
a-talktng to you all the time. You all
time think you talking to little girls
and all times ’t ain’t nobody but me.”
A light dawned on the innocent one.
He promptly hung up the receiver and
got down out of the chair. Before Jim-
my was fully aware of his intention,
Billy-had thrown him tc the floor and
was giving him a good pommeling.
“Say you got ’nough?” he growled
from his position astride of the oth-
er boy.
“I got ’nough, Billy,” repeated
Jimmy.
“Say you sorry you done it.”
“I say I sorry I done it,” abjectly
repeated the younger child. “Get up,
Billy, ’fore you bust my stommlck
open.”
“Say you ain’t never a-goin’ to tell
nobody, cross yo’ heart,” was the next
command.
“I say I ain’t never going to tell no-
body, cross my heart. Get up, Billy,
’fore you makes me mad, and ain’t
no telling what I’ll do to you If I
get mad.”
“Say you’s a low-down Jezebel
skunk.”
“I ain’t going to say I’m nothing of
the kind,” spiritedly replied the under
dog. “You all time wunting somebody
to call theirselfs somepin. You’re a
low-down Isabella skunk yourself.”
“You got to say it,” insisted the
victor, renewing hostilities.
“I’ll say I’m a Isabella, ’cause Isa-
bella discovered America, and’s in
the Bible,” replied the tormented
one; “Miss Cecilia ’splained it to
me.”
Billy accepted his compromise and
Jimmy’s flattened stomach, relieved
of its burden, puffed out to its usual
roundness as that little boy rose to his
feet, saying:
“Sam Lamb would ’a’ died a-laugh-
ing, Billy, if he’d seen you telephon-
ing.”
“He’d better never hear tell of it,”
was the threatening rejoinder.
CHAPTER XVI.
The Humble Petition.
Billy, sitting in an old buggy in
front of the livery stable, had just
engaged in a long and interesting
conversation with Sam Lamb. He was
getting out of the vehicle when the
sharp wire around the broken rod
caught in the back of his trousers and
tore a great hole. He felt a tingling
pain and looked over his shoulder to
investigate. Not being satisfied with
the result, he turned his back to the
negro and anxiously inquired: “Is my
breeches tore, Sam?” .
“Dey am dat,” was the reply, “dey
am busted f’m Dan ter Beersheba."
“What I goin’ to do ’bout it?” ask-
ed the little boy. “Aunt Minerva sho’
will be mad. These here’s bran-spankin’
new trousers what I ain’t never wore
tell today. Ain’t you got a needle an’
thread so’s you can fix ’em, Sam?”
“Nary er needle,” said Sam Lamb.
“Is my union suit tore, too?” asked
Billy again turning his back for in-
spection.
His friend made a close examina-
tion.
“Yo’ unions Is Injured plum scan- F The child was silent for a long time,
erlous,” was his discouraging decision, his little mind busy, then he began:
“and hit ’pears ter me dat yo’ hide
done suffer, too; you’s got er turrible
scratch.”
The child sighed. The Injury to the
flesh was of small importance—he
could hide that from his aunt—but the
rent in his trousers was a serious
matter.
“I wish I could get ’em mended ’fore
I goes home,” he said wistfully.
“I tell you what do,” suggested
Sam, “I ’low Miss Cecilia’ll holp yeh;
jest go by her house an’ she’ll darn
’em up fer yeh.”
Billy hesitated.
“Well, you see, Sam, me an’ Miss
Cecilia’s engaged an’ we’s fixin’ to
marry jes' ’s soon’s I put on long
pants, an’ I ’shame’ to ask her. An’
I don’t believe young ’omans patches
the breeches of young mans what
they’s goin’ to marry nohow. Do you?
Aunt Minerva ain’ never patched no
breeches for the major. And then,"
with a modest blush, “my unions Is
tore, too, an’ I ain’t got on nothin’ else
to hide my skin.”
Again he turned his back to his
friend and, his clouded little face look-
ing over his shoulder, he asked: “Do
my meat show, Sam?”
“She am visible ter the naked eye,”
and Sam Lamb laughed loudly at his
own wit.
“I don’t believe God.pays me much
attention nohow,” said the little boy
dolefully; “ev’y day I.gets put to bed
’cause sumpin’s all time a-happenin’.
If he’d had a eye on me like he ought-
er they wouldn’t a been no snaggin’.
Aunt Minerva’s goip/ to be mad th’oo
an’ th’oo.”
“May be my ol’ ’oman can fix ’em,
so’s dey won’t be so turrible bad,”
suggested the negro, “ ’tain’t fer, so
you jes’ run down ter my cabin an’ tell
Sukey I say fix dem breeches.”
The child needed no second bidding
—he fairly flew. Sam’s wife was cook-
ing, but she cheerfully stopped her
work to help the little boy. She sew-
ed up the union suit and put a bright
blue patch on his brown linen
breeches.
Billy felt a little more cheerful,
though he still dreaded confessing to
his aunt, and he loitered along the
way till It was nearly dark. Supper
was ready when he got home and he
walked into the dining room with his
customary ease and grace. But he took
his seat uneasily, and he was so quiet
during the meal and ate so little that
his aunt asked him if he was sick.
He was planning in his mind how to
break the news of the day’s disaster
to her.
“You are improving, William,” she
remarked presently, “you haven’t got
into any mischief today. You have
been a mighty good little boy now for
two days.”
Billy flushed at the compliment and
shifted uneasily in his seat. That
patch seemed to burn him.
“If God’d jest do his part,” be said
darkly, “I wouldn’t never git in no
meanness.”
After supper Miss Minerva washed
the dishes_in the kitchen sink and
Billy carried them back to the dining-
room. His aunt caught him several
times pjancing sideways in the most
Aunt Minerva—”
She peered at him over her glasses
a second, then dropped her eyes to the
paper where an interesting article on
Foreign Missions held her attention.
“Aunt Minerva, I snagged—Aunt
Minerva, I snagged my—my skin to-
day.” -
“Let me see the place,” she said, ab-
sently, her eyes glued to a paragraph
describing a cannibal feast.
“I’s a-settin’ on It right now,” he re-
plied.
Another long silence ensued. Billy
resolved to settle the matter.
"I’s gettin' sleepy,” he yawned.
“Aunt Minerva, I want to say my pray-
ers and go to bed.”
She laid her paper down and he
dropped to his knees by her side. He
usually sprawled all over her lap dur-
ing his lengthy devotions, but tonight
he clasped his little hands and rear-
ed back like a rabbit on its haunches.
After he had rapidly repeated the
Lord’s Prayer, which he had recent-
ly learned, and had Invoked blessings
on all his new friends and never-to-be-
forgotten old ones, he concluded with:
An’, O Lord,, you done kep’ me
f’om meddlin’ Avith Aunt Minerva’s
hose any mo’, an’ you done kep’ me
f’om gittin’ any mo’ Easter eggs, azY
playin’ any mo’ Injun, an’ you done
kep’ me f’m lettin’ Mr. Algernon Jones
come ag’in, an’ now, O Lord, please
don’t lemme worry the very ’zistence
outer Aunt Minerva any mo’ ’n you
can help, like she said I done this
mornin’, an’ please, if thy will be done,
don’t lemme tear the next new
breeches what she’ll gimme like I done
ruint these here what I got on.”
—
CHAPTER XVII.
A Green-Eyed Billy.
"Have some candy?” said Miss Ce-
cilia, offering a big box of bonbont
to Billy, who was visiting her.
“Where’d you git ’em?” he asked, a»
he helped himself generously.
“Maurice sent them to me this morn-
ing.”
Billy put all his candy back into the
box.
“I don’t believe I want noner yo’
candy,” he said, scowling darkly. “I
reckon you likes him better ’n me any-
how, don’t you?”
“I love you dearly,” she replied.
The child stood in front of her and
looked her squarely in the eye. Hla
little form was drawn to its full, proud
height, his soft, fair cheeks were flush-
ed, his big, beautiful gray eyes looked*
somber and sad.
"Is you in love with that red-
headed Maurice Richmond, an’ jes’ a»
foolin’ o’ me?” he asked with dig*
nity.
A bright flush dyed crimson th«
young lady’s pretty face.
She put her arm around the childish,
graceful figure and drew the little boj
to the sofa beside her.
“Now, honey, you mustn’t be silly,*
she said, gently, “you are my own,
dear, little sweetheart.”
“An’ 1 reckon "Ire's "ya 'A&wfl,- •
big sweetheart,” said the jealous Billy
“Well, all I got to say is this-here: il
&
W
A-n/xr
"Nary er Needle,” Said Sam Lamb.
idiotic manner. He was making a
valiant effort to keep from exposing his
rear elevation to her; once he had to
walk backward.
“William,” she said,, sharply, “you
will break my plates What is the
matter with you tonight?”
A little later they were sitting qui-
etly in Miss Minerva’s room. She was
reading “The Christian at Home,” and
he was absently looking at a picture
book.
“Sam Lamb’s wife Sukey sho’ is a
beautiful pateber,” he remarked, feel-
ing his way.
She made no answering comment,
and the discouraged little boy was si-
lent for a few minutes. He had worn
Aunt Cindy’s many-colored patches too
often to be ashamed of this one for
himself, but he felt that he would like
to draw his aunt out and find how shp
stood on the subject of patches.
“Aunt Minerva,” he presently 'ask-
ed, “what sorter patches’d you ruther
wear on yo’ pants, blue patches or
brown?”
“On my what?” she asked, looking
at him severely over her paper.
“I mean if you’re me,” he hastily ex-
plained. “Don’t you think blue patches
is the mos’ nat’ral lookin’?”
“What are you driving at, William?”
she asked; but without waiting for his
answer she went on with her read-
ing.
he’s a-goin’ to come to see you ev*j
day then I ain’t never cornin’ no mo*
He’s been a-carryin’ on his foolishnesr
’bout ’s long as I can stand it. Yot
got to choose ’tween us right this min
ute; he comes down here mos’ er’j
day, he’s tuck you drivin’ more’n fifty
hunderd times, an’ he’s give you g.11
the candy you can stuff.”
“He is not the only one who comes
to see me,” she said smiling down at
him. “Jimmy comes often and Lee
Hamner and Will Reid. Don’t you want
them to coine?”
“Don’t nobody pay no ’tention to
Jimmy,” he replied contemptuously;
“he ain’t nothin’ but a baby, an’ them
other mens can come If you wants ’em
to; but,” said Billy, with a lover’s un-
erring intuition, “I ain’t a-goin’ ta
stand for that long-legged, sorrel-top
Maurice Richmond a-trottin’ his great
big carkiss down here ev’y minute. I
wish Aunt Minerva’d let me put on
long pants tomorrer so’s we could git
married.” He caught sight of a new
ring sparkling on her finger.
“Who give you that ring?" he ask-
ed sharply.
“A little bird brought it. to me,” she
said, trying to speak gayly and blushr
ing again.
“A big red-headed peckerweod,” said
Billy savagely.
(TO BB CONTINUED^
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The Refugio Review. (Refugio, Tex.), Vol. 5, No. 38, Ed. 1 Friday, November 22, 1912, newspaper, November 22, 1912; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth846810/m1/8/: accessed July 16, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Dennis M. O’Connor Public Library.