“I’s had four children—­all of ’em is dead.  I lives with my grandson.  The little fellow, he’ll be old enough to go to school in a year or two.  A dime for him ma’am—­an’ 2 cents besides?  Now son you keep the dime and you can spend the pennies.  I always tries to teach him to save.  Then when he gets big he’ll know what to do.”

Dining room and living room joined one another by means of a high and wide arch.  The stove was sensibly set up in this passage.  Both rooms were comfortably furnished with products which had in all probability been bought new.  The child stood close by thruout the entire conversation.  There was no whit of timidity about him, nor was he the least impertinent.  He was frankly interested and wanted to know what was being said.  He received the dime and the pennies with a pleasant grin and a (grandmother prompted) “Thank you”.  But the gift didn’t startle him.  Dimes must have been a fairly usual part of his life.  But a few minutes before the interviewer left she dropped her pencil.  It was new and long and yellow.  The child’s eyes clung to it as he returned it.  “Would you like to have it.” the young woman asked, “would you like a pencil of your very own, to draw with?” Would he!  The child’s whole face beamed.  Dimes were as nothing compared to shiney new pencils.  The third grandchild was overjoyed with his new plaything.  Ella Sanderson was delighted with her great grandchild’s pleasure.  The interviewer received a warm and friendly “Good-bye”.

Interviewer:  Miss Irene Robertson
Person Interviewed:  Mary Scott
                    DeValls Bluff or Biscoe
Age: 

“I said if ever I seed you agin I’d show you dis here scar on my head.  See here [a puffed-out, black, rusty, not quite round place, where no hair grew].  Dat dar what my young mistress put on me when I was a chile.  Dock Hardy hired me.  He was rich and married a pore gal.  It went to her head.  He was good to me.  She was mean.  She had him whoop me a time or two for nothin’.  They had two little babies, I stayed round wid.  I loved em.  I churned, brought in all the wood mighty near, brought bout all the water from the spring.  Master Dock be coming horseback from Franklin, Tennessee.  I knowed bout time I take the babies to meet him.  He’d wait at a big stump we could climb on his horse, take the baby in front and us up behind him, and put us off on the back piazza at the house.  I wrapped up the churn and quit.  She ax me what I quit churnin’ for.  I say the butter come.  She say it ain’t had time.  I say it ready to take up anyhow.  She got so mad she throwed a stick of stove wood, hit me on my head.  I run out crying, the blood streamin’ down.  I started to the spring, come back and got the water bucket.  I got me some water and brought back a fresh bucket full.  I washed my head in cool water where it was bleedin’.  It bled all way back.  She say, ‘Where you been?’ I say I been to the spring, brought some cool water