o read it yourself. I sure 'low the
spellin' ain't jest right, but you'll likely understand it. Y'see, the
writin's clear, which is the chief thing. I was allus smart with a
pen. Now, this yer is jest how our--my--leddy frien' reckons kids
needs fixin'. It ain't reasonable to guess everything's down ther'.
They're jest sort o' principles which you need to foller. Maybe
they'll help you some. Guess if you foller them reg'lations your
kids'll sure grow proper."

He handed the papers across, and Scipio took them only too willingly.
His thanks, his delight, was in the sudden lighting up of his whole
face. But he did not offer a verbal expression of his feelings until
he had read down the first page. Then he looked up with eyes that were
almost moist with gratitude.

"Say," he began, "I can't never tell you how 'bliged I am, Sunny.
These things have bothered me a whole heap. It's kind of you, Sunny,
it is, sure. I'm that obliged I--"

"Say," broke in the loafer, "that sort o' talk sort o' worrits my
brain. Cut it out." Then he grinned. "Y'see, I ain't used to thinkin'
hard. It's mostly in the natur' o' work, an'--well, work an' me ain't
been friends for years."

But Scipio was devouring the elaborated information Sunny had so
laboriously set out. The loafer's picturesque mind had drawn heavily
on its resources, and Birdie's principles had undergone a queer
metamorphosis. So much so, that she would now have had difficulty
in recognizing them. Sunny watched him reading with smiling interest.
He was looking for those lights and shades which he hoped his
illuminating phraseology would inspire. But Scipio was in deadly
earnest. Phraseology meant nothing to him. It was the guidance he
was looking for and devouring hungrily. At last he looked up, his
pale eyes glowing.

"That's fine," he exclaimed, with such a wonderful relief that it was
impossible to doubt his appreciation. Then he glanced round the room.
He found some pins and promptly pinned the sheets on the cupboard
door. Then he stood back and surveyed them. "You're a good friend,
Sunny," he said earnestly. "Now I can't never make a mistake. There it
is all wrote ther'. An' when I ain't sure 'bout nothing, why, I only
jest got to read what you wrote. I don't guess the kiddies can reach
them there. Y'see, kiddies is queer 'bout things. Likely they'd get
busy tearing those sheets right up, an' then wher'd I be? I'll start
right in now on those reg'lations, an' you'll se