“Well, I tell you,” she presently said, “the first time that they Saw him he was a boy—oh! I reckon along about eight or nine years old at the time. I’ve heard father tell the story many’s the time,” she said, “and mother was there and knew about it, too. That was the very year that they were married, sir, that’s exactly when it was,” she declared triumphantly. “Well, mother and father were still livin’ there in Zebulon, and old Bill Joyner was there, too. He hadn’t yet moved into town, you know. Oh, it was several years after this before Bill came to Libya Hill to live, and father didn’t follow him till after the war was over…. Well, anyway,” she said, “Bill was still out in Zebulon, as I was sayin’, and the story goes that it was Sunday morning. So after breakfast the whole crowd of them start out for church—all of them except old Bill, you know, and I reckon he had something else to do, or felt that it was all right for him to stay at home so long as all the others went…. Well, anyhow,” she smiled, “Bill didn’t go to church, but he saw them go, you know! He saw them go!” she cried. “He stood there in the door and watched them as they went down the road—father and Sam and mother, and your great-uncle Rance. Well, anyway, when they had gone—I reckon it was some time later—Bill went out into the kitchen. And when he got there he saw the lid of the wool-box was open. Of course father was a hatter and he kept the wool from which he made the felt out in the kitchen in this big box.—Why, it was big enough for a grown man to stretch out full length in, with some to spare, and of course it was as good a bed as anyone could want. I know that when father wanted to take a nap on Sunday afternoons, or get off somewheres by himself to study something over, he’d go back and stretch out on the wool.
“Well,’ thinks Bill, ‘now who could ever have gone and done such a trick as that? Fate told them’—that’s what he called my father, Lafayette, you know—‘Fate told them to keep that box closed,’ and he walks over, you know, to put the lid down—and there he was, sir!” she cried strongly—“There he was, if you please, stretched out in the wool and fast asleep—why, Rance, you know! Rance! There he was!…‘Aha!’ thinks Bill, ‘I caught you that time, didn’t I? Now he’s just sneaked off from all the others when he thought my back was turned, and he’s crawled back here to have a snooze when he’s supposed to be in church.’ That’s what Bill thought, you know. ‘Now if he thinks he’s goin’ to play any such trick as that on me, he’s very much mistaken. But we’ll see,’ thinks Bill, ‘We’ll just wait and see. Now, I’m not goin’ to wake him up,’ says Bill, ‘I’ll go away and let him sleep—but when the others all get back from church I’m goin’ to ask him where he’s been. And if he tells the truth—if he confesses that he crawled into the wool-box for a nap, I won’t punish him. But if he tries to lie out of it,’ says Bill, ‘I’ll give him such a thrashin’ as he’s never had in all his life before!’
“So he goes away then and leaves Rance there to sleep. Well, he waited then, and pretty soon they all came back from church, and, sure enough, here comes Rance, trailin’ along with all the rest of them. ‘Rance,’ says Bill, ‘How’d you like the sermon?’ ‘Oh,’ says Rance, smi-lin’ an’ grinnin’ all over, you know, ‘it was fine, father, fine,’ he says. ‘Fine, was it?’ Bill says, ‘You enjoyed it, did you?’ ‘Oh, why, yes!’ he says, ‘I enjoyed it fine!’ ‘Well, now, that’s good,’ says Bill, ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ says he. ‘What did the preacher talk about?’ he says.
“Well, then, you know, Rance started in to tell him—he went through the preacher’s sermon from beginnin’ to end, he told him everything that was in it, even to describin’ how the preacher talked and all.
“And Bill listened. He didn’t say a word. He waited till Rance got through talkin’. Then he looked at him, and shook his head. ‘Rance,’ he says, ‘I want you to look me in the eye.’ And Rance looked at him, you know, real startled-like; says, ‘Why, yes, father, what is it? What’s wrong?’ he says. Then Bill looked at him, and shook his head. Says, ‘Rance, Rance, I’d have let you go if you had told the truth about it, but,’ says, ‘Rance—you have lied to me,’ ‘Why, no, father,’ says Rance, ‘No, I haven’t. What do you mean?’ he says. And Bill looked at him; says, ‘Rance—you have not been to church,’ says, ‘I found you in the wool-box fast asleep, and that is where you’ve been all morning. Now,’ says Bill, ‘you come with me,’ and took him by the shoulder. ‘Oh, father, I haven’t done anything’—begins to cry, you know, says, ‘Don’t whip me, don’t whip me—I haven’t lied to you—I’ll swear to you I haven’t.’ ‘You come with me,’ says Bill—begins to pull and drag him along, you know, ‘and when I’m through with you you’ll never lie to me again.’