RISING IN THE WORLD
The painter had just finished putting a bright green coat of paint upon
the low, flat roof of Miss Minerva's long back-porch. And he left his
ladder leaning against the house while he went inside to confer with her
in regard to some other work.
Billy, Jimmy, Frances, and Lina had been playing “Fox and Geese.”
Running around the house they spied the ladder and saw no owner to deny
them.
“Le's clam' up and get on top the porch,” suggested Jimmy.
“Aunt Minerva'll put me to bed if I do,” said Billy.
“Mother'll make me learn a whole page of the catechism if I climb a
ladder,” said Lina.
“My mama'll shut me up in the closet, but our mamas aren't bound to know
'bout it,”--this from Frances. “Come on, let's climb up.”
“I ain't neverpromise not to clam' no ladder but--” Billy hesitated.
“You-all 'bout the skeeriest folks they is,” sneered Jimmy. “Mama'll
whip me going and coming if she finds out 'bout it, but I ain't skeered.
I dare anybody to dare me to clam' up.”
“I dare you to climb this ladder,” responded an accommodating Frances.
“I ain't never tooken a dare yet,” boasted the little boy proudly, his
foot on the bottom rung. “Who's going to foller me?”
“Don't we have fun?” cried a jubilant Frances.
“Yes,” answered Jimmy; “if grown folks don't all time be watching you
and sticking theirselfs in your way.”
“If people would let us alone,” remarked Lina, “we could enjoy ourselves
every day.”
“But grown folks got to be so pertic'lar with you all time,” cried
Jimmy, “they don't never want us to play together.”
He led the way up the ladder, followed by Frances and Billy; and Lina
brought up the rear. The children ran the long length of the porch
leaving their footprints on the fresh, sticky paint.
“Will it wash off?” asked Frances, looking gloomily down at her feet,
which seemed to be encased in green moccasins.
At that moment she slipped and fell sprawling on top of the roof. When
the others helped her to her feet, she was a sight to behold, her white
dress splotched with vivid green from top to bottom.
“If that ain't jus' like you, Frances,” Jimmy exclaimed; “you all time
got to fall down and get paint on your dress so we can't 'ceive nobody.
Now our mamas bound to know 'bout us clamming up here.”
“They would know it anyhow,” mourned Lina; “we'll never get this paint
off of our feet. We had better get right down and see if we can't wash
some of it off.”
While they were talking the owner of the ladder, who had not noticed
them--and was deaf in the bargain--had quietly removed it from the
back-porch and carried it around to the front of the house.
The children looked at each other in consternation when they perceived
their loss.
“What we goin' to do now?” asked Billy.
“If this ain't just like Billy, all time got to perpose to clam' a
ladder and all time got to let the ladder get loose from him,” growled
Jimmy. “We done cooked a goose egg, this time. You got us up here,
Billy, how you going to get us down?”
“I didn't, neither.”
“Well, it's Miss Minerva's house and she's your aunt and we's your
company and you got to be 'sponsible.”
“I can clam' down this-here post,” said the responsible party.
“I can climb down it, too,” seconded Frances.
“You can't clam' down nothing at all,” said Jimmy contemptuously. “Talk
'bout you can clam' down a post; you'd fall and bust yourself wide open;
you 'bout the clumsiest girl there is; 'sides, your legs 're too fat.”
“We can holla,” was Lina's suggestion.
“And have grown folks laughing fit to pop their sides open? I'm 'shame'
to go anywheres now 'cause folks all time telling me when I'm going
to dye some more Easter eggs! Naw, we better not holler,” said Jimmy.
“Ain't you going to do nothing, Billy?”
“I'll jest slide down this-here post and git the painter man to bring
his ladder back. Y' all wait up here.”
Billy's solution of the difficulty seemed the safest, and they were soon
released from their elevated prison.
“I might as well go home and be learning the catechism,” groaned Lina.
“I'm going to get right in the closet soon's I get to my house,” said
Frances.
“Go on and put on your night-shirt, Billy.” Billy took himself to the
bath-room and scrubbed and scrubbed; but the paint refused to come off.
He tiptoed by the kitchen where his aunt was cooking dinner and ran into
his own room.
He found the shoes and stockings which were reserved for Sunday wear,
and soon had them upon his little feet.
Miss Minerva rang the dinner-bell and he walked quietly into the
dining-room trying to make as little noise and to attract as little
attention from his aunt as possible; but she fastened her eyes at once
upon his feet.
“What are you doing with your shoes on, William?” she asked.
Billy glanced nonchalantly at her.
“Don't you think, Aunt Minerva,” he made answer, “I's gittin' too big
to go 'thout any shoes? I's mos' ready to put on long pants, an' how'd
I look, I'd jest like to know, goin' roun' barefooted an' got on long
breeches. I don' believe I'll go barefooted no mo'--I'll jest wear my
shoes ev'y day.”
“I just believe you won't. Go take them off at once and hurry back to
your dinner.”
“Lemme jest wait tell I eats,” he begged, hoping to postpone the evil
hour of exposure.
“No, go at once, and be sure and wash your hands.”
Miss Minerva spied the paint the instant he made his second entrance and
immediately inquired, “How did you get that paint on your feet?”
The little boy took his seat at the table and looked up at her with his
sweet, attractive, winning smile.
“Paint pertec's little boys' feets,” he said, “an' keeps 'em f'om
gittin' hurted, Aunt Minerva, don't it?”
Miss Minerva laid down her fork and gave her nephew her undivided
attention.
“You have been getting into mischief again, I see, William; now tell me
all about it. Are you afraid of me?”
“Yas 'm,” was his prompt response, “an' I don't want to be put to bed
neither. The Major he wouldn't put little boys to bed day times.”
She blushed and eyed him thoughtfully. She was making slow progress with
the child, she knew, yet she still felt it her stern duty to be very
strict with him and, having laid down certain rules to rear him by, she
wished to adhere to them.
“William,” she said after he had made a full confession, “I won't punish
you this time for I know that Jimmy led you into it but--”
“Naw'm, Jimmy didn't. Me an' him an' Frances an' Lina's all 'sponsible,
but I promise you, Aunt Minerva, not to clam' no mo' ladders.”