William paused.

Mr. Genesis was scraping the hull of the miniature boat with a piece of broken glass, in lieu of sandpaper, but he seemed to be following his young friend’s remarks with attention.  William had mentioned Shakespeare impulsively, in the ardor of demonstrating his point; however, upon second thought he decided to withdraw the name.

“I mean, you take the olden times,” he went on; “hardly anybody got married after they were nineteen or twenty years old, unless they were widowers, because they were all married by that time.  And right here in our own county, there were eleven couples married in the last six months under twenty-one years of age.  I’ve got a friend named Johnnie Watson; his uncle works down at the court-house and told him about it, so it can’t be denied.  Then there was a case I heard of over in—­”

Mr. Genesis uttered a loud chuckle.  “My goo’ness!” he exclaimed.  “How you c’leck all’ dem fac’s?  Lan’ name!  What puzzlin’ me is how you ’member ’em after you done c’leck ’em.  Ef it uz me I couldn’t c’leck ’em in de firs’ place, an’ ef I could, dey wouldn’ be no use to me, ’cause I couldn’t rickalect ’em!”

“Well, it isn’t so hard,” said William, “if you kind of get the hang of it.”  Obviously pleased, he plucked a spear of grass and placed it between his teeth, adding, “I always did have a pretty good memory.”

“Mamma says you’re the most forgetful boy she ever heard of,” said Jane, calmly.  “She says you can’t remember anything two minutes.”

William’s brow darkened.  “Now look here—­” he began, with severity.

But the old darky intervened.  “Some folks got good rickaleckshum an’ some folks got bad,” he said, pacifically.  “Young white germmun rickalect mo’ in two minute dan what I kin in two years!”

Jane appeared to accept this as settlement of the point at issue, while William bestowed upon Mr. Genesis a glance of increased favor.  William’s expression was pleasant to see; in fact, it was the pleasantest expression Jane had seen him wearing for several days.  Almost always, lately, he was profoundly preoccupied, and so easily annoyed that there was no need to be careful of his feelings, because—­as his mother observed—­he was “certain to break out about every so often, no matter what happened!”

“I remember pretty much everything,” he said, as if in modest explanation of the performance which had excited the aged man’s admiration.  “I can remember things that happened when I was four years old.”

“So can I,” said Jane.  “I can remember when I was two.  I had a kitten fell down the cistern and papa said it hurt the water.”

“My goo’ness!” Mr. Genesis exclaimed.  “An’ you ’uz on’y two year ole, honey!  Bes’ I kin do is rickalect when I ’uz ’bout fifty.”

“Oh no!” Jane protested.  “You said you remembered havin’ a baby when you were seventeen, Mr. Genesis.”

“Yes’m,” he admitted.  “I mean rickalect good like you do ‘bout yo’ li’l’ cat an’ all how yo’ pappy tuck on ’bout it.  I kin rickalect some, but I cain’ rickalect good.”