So he thess claired his th’oat, an’ set down a minute to consider.  An’ then he riz from his seat, an’ remarked, with a heap o’ hems and haws, thet of co’se everybody knowed thet Sonny Jones had had unusual advantages in some respec’s, but thet it was one thing for a boy to spend his time a-picnickin’ in the woods, getherin’ all sorts of natural curiosities, but it was quite another to be a scholar accordin’ to books, so’s to be able to pass sech a’ examination ez would be a credit to a State institution o’ learnin’, sech ez the one over which he was proud to preside.  That word struck me partic’lar, “proud to preside,” which, in all this, of co’se, I see he was castin’ a slur on Sonny’s collections of birds’ eggs, an’ his wild flowers, an’ wood specimens, an’ min’rals.  He even went so far ez to say thet ol’ Proph’, the half-crazy nigger thet tells fortunes, an’ gethers herbs out ’n the woods, an’ talks to hisself, likely knew more about a good many things than anybody present, but thet, bein’ ez he didn’t know b from a bull’s foot, why, it wouldn’t hardly do to grad’jate him—­not castin’ no slurs on Master Sonny Jones, nor makin’ no invijus comparisons, of co’se.

Well, sir, there was some folks there thet seemed to think this sort o’ talk was mighty funny an’ smart.  Some o’ the mothers acchilly giggled over it out loud, they was so mightily tickled.  But Sonny he thess stood his ground an’ waited.  Most any boy o’ his age would ‘a’ got flustered, but he didn’t.  He thess glanced around unconcerned at all the people a-settin’ around him, thess like ez ef they might ‘a’ been askin’ him to a picnic instid o’ him provokin’ a whole school committee to wrath.

Well, sir, it took that school-teacher about a half-hour to pick out the first question, an’ he didn’t pick it out then.  He ‘d stop, an’ he’d look at the book, an’ then he’d look at Sonny, an’ then he’d look at the class,—­an’ then he’d turn a page, like ez ef he couldn’t make up his mind, an’ was afeerd to resk it, less’n it might be missed, an’ be referred back to the class.  I never did see a man so overwrought over a little thing in my life—­never.  They do say, though, that school-teachers feels mighty bad when their scholars misses any p’int in public.

Well, sir, he took so long that d’reckly everybody begin to git wo’e out, an’ at last Sonny, why, he got tired, too, an’ he up an’ says, says he, “Ef you can’t make up your mind what to ask me, teacher, why ’n’t you let me ask myself questions?  An’ ef my questions seem too easy, why, I’ll put ’em to the class.”

An’, sir, with that he thess turns round, an’ he says, says he, “Sonny Jones,” says he, addressin’ hisself, “what’s the cause of total eclipses of the sun?” Thess that a-way he said it; an’ then he turned around, an’ he says, says he: 

“Is that a hard enough question?”

“Very good,” says teacher.