Supper was ready when he got home and he
walked into the diningroom 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 were 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 to-day. 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," he 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 prancing sideways in the most
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.
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