dream about fresh pork out o' season, which this is July, is considered
a shore sign o' death. Of co'se, wife an' me, we don't b'lieve in no
sech ez that, but ef you ever come to see yo' little feller's toes stand
out the way Sonny's done day befo' yesterday, why, sir, you'll be ready
to b'lieve anything. It's so much better now, you can't judge of its
looks day befo' yesterday. We never had even so much ez considered it
necessary thet little children should be christened to have 'em saved,
but when things got on the ticklish edge, like they was then, why, we
felt thet the safest side is the wise side, an', of co'se, we want Sonny
to have the best of everything. So, we was mighty thankful when we see
the rector comin'. But, sir, when I went out to open the gate for him,
what on top o' this round hemisp'ere do you reckon Sonny done? Why,
sir, he thess took one look at the gate an' then he cut an' run hard
ez he could--limped acrost the yard thess like a flash o' zig-zag
lightnin'--an' 'fore anybody could stop him, he had clumb to the tip top
o' the butter-bean arbor--clumb it thess like a cat--an' there he set,
a-swingin' his feet under him, an' laughin', the rain thess a-streakin'
his hair all over his face.

That bean arbor is a favoryte place for him to escape to, 'cause it's
too high to reach, an' it ain't strong enough to bear no grown-up
person's weight.

Well, sir, the rector, he come in an' opened his valise an' 'rayed
hisself in his robes an' opened his book, an' while he was turnin' the
leaves, he faced 'round an' says he, lookin' at me _di_rec', says he:

"Let the child be brought forward for baptism," says he, thess
that-a-way.