m. 'T ain't safe not to mind de signs; 't
ain't safe."

And with muttered warnings she watched them until they were lost to
view behind the hill.

CHAPTER IX

TRANSITION

The change from the road to the school-room was not without many a
struggle on Sandy's part. The new life, the new customs, and the
strange language, were baffling.

The day after the accident in the road, Mrs. Hollis had sent him to
inquire how old Mrs. Nelson was, and he had returned with the
astonishing report that she was sixty-one.

"But you didn't ask her age?" cried Mrs. Hollis, horrified.

Sandy looked perplexed. "I said what ye bid me," he declared.

Everything he did, in fact, seemed to be wrong; and everything he
said, to bring a smile. He confided many a woe to Aunt Melvy as he
sat on the kitchen steps in the evenings.

"Hit's de green rubbin' off," she assured him sympathetically. "De
same ones dat laugh at you now will be takin' off dey hats to you some
day."

"Oh, it ain't the guyin' I mind," said Sandy; "it's me wooden head.
Them little shavers that can't see a hole in a ladder can beat me
figurin'."

"You jus' keep on axin' questions," advised Aunt Melvy. "Dat's what I
always tole Rachael. Rachael's dat yaller gal up to Mrs. Nelson's. I
done raise her, an' she ain't a bit o'count. I use' ter say, 'You fool
nigger, how you ebber gwine learn nothin' effen you don't ax
questions?' An' she'd stick out her mouth an' say, 'Umph, umph; you
don't ketch me lettin' de white folks know how much sense I ain't
got.' Den she'd put on a white dress an' a white sunbonnet an' go
switchin' up de street, lookin' jus' lak a fly in a glass ob
buttermilk."

"It's the mixed-up things that bother me," said Sandy. "Mr. Moseley
was telling of us to-day how ye lost a day out of the week when ye
went round the world one way, and gained a day when ye went round the
other."

Aunt Melvy paused with the tea-towel in her hand. "Lost a day outen de
week? Where'd he say you lost it at?"

Sandy shook his head in perplexity.

"Dat's plumb foolishness," said Aunt Melvy, indignantly. "I'se
s'prised at Mr. Moseley, I sholy is. Dey sorter gits notions, dem
teachers does. When dey tells you stuff lak dat, honey, don't you pay
'em no mind."

But Sandy did "pay 'em mind." He followed Aunt Melvy's advice about
asking questions, and wrestled with each new proposition until he
mastered it. It did not take him long, moreover, to distinguish the
diffe