Sometimes, if Jimboy was home, he would take down his old guitar and start the children to dancing in the sunlight—but then Hager would always call Sandy to pump water or go to the store as soon as she heard the music.

“Out there dancin’ like you ain’t got no raisin’!” she would say. “I tells Jimboy ’bout playin’ that ole ragtime here! That’s what ruint Harriett!”

And on Sundays Sandy went to Sabbath school at the Shiloh Baptist Church, where he was given a colored picture card with a printed text on it. The long, dull lessons were taught by Sister Flora Garden, who had been to Wilberforce College, in Ohio. There were ten little boys in Sandy’s class, ranging from nine to fourteen, and they behaved very badly, for Miss Flora Garden, who wore thick-lensed glasses on her roach-colored face, didn’t understand little boys.

“Where was Moses when the lights went out?” Gritty Smith asked her every Sunday, and she didn’t even know the answer.

Sandy didn’t think much of Sunday-school, and frequently instead of putting his nickel in the collection basket he spent it for candy, which he divided with Buster—until one very hot Sunday Hager found it out. He had put a piece of the sticky candy in his shirt-pocket and it melted, stuck, and stained the whole front of his clean clothes. When he came home, with Buster behind him the first thing Hager said was: “What’s all this here stuck up in yo’ pocket?” and Buster commenced to giggle and said Sandy had bought candy.

“Where’d you get the money, sir?” demanded Aunt Hager searchingly of her grandson.

“I—we—er—Madam Carter gimme a nickel,” Sandy replied haltingly, choosing the first name he could think of, which would have been all right had not Madam de Carter herself stopped by the house, almost immediately afterwards, on her way home from church.

“Is you give Sandy a nickel to buy candy this mawnin’?” Hager asked her as soon as she entered the parlor.

“Why, no, Sister Williams, I isn’t. I had no coins about me a-tall at services this morning.”

“Umn-huh! I thought so!” said Hager. “You Sandy!”

The little boy, guilt written all over his face, came in from the front porch, where he had been sitting with his father after Buster went home.

“Where’d you tell me you got that nickel this mawnin’?” And before he could answer, she spat out: “I’m gonna whip you!”

“Jehovah help us! Children sure is bad these days,” said Madam de Carter, shaking her head as she left to go next door to her own house. “They sure are bad,” she added, self-consciously correcting her English.

“I’m gonna whip you,” Hager continued, sitting down amazed in her plush chair. “De idee o’ withholdin’ yo’ Sunday-school money from de Lawd an’ buyin’ candy.”

“I only spent a penny,” Sandy lied, wriggling.

“How you gwine get so much candy fo’ a penny that you has some left to gum up in yo’ pocket? Tell me that, how you gonna do it?”