P.S. Bubby Short didn’t mean to, but he sat down on my speckled straw
hat, and we couldn’t get it out even again, and I didn’t want him to,
but he would go to buy me a new one, and I went with him, but the man
didn’t have any, for he said the man that made speckled straw hats was
dead and his shop was burnt down, and we found a brown straw hat, but I
wouldn’t let Bubby Short pay any of his money, only eight cents, because
I didn’t have quite enough. Don’t shopkeepers have the most money of all
kinds of men? Wouldn’t you be a shopkeeper when I grow up? It seems
just as easy! If you was me would you swap off your white-handled
jack-knife your father bought you for a four-blader? My sister said to
send some of W. B.’s good things. He wrote a very good composition about
heads, the teacher said, and I am going to send it, for that will be
sending one of his good things. It’s got in it about two dozen kinds of
heads besides our own heads. W. B. is willing for me to copy it off. And
Bubby Short wrote a very cunning little one, and if you want to, you may
read it. The teacher told us a good deal about heads.