By this time Betty was ready to weep over the child, with his knowledge of shabby vice, and his fresh young faith in those old tatterdemalions.
"But, no matter what they do, they are very, very kind to you ?" she continued quite tremulously.
"Yes, ma'am--why, Miss Betty, they're lovely men!" "And do you ever hear the things spoken of you learned about at Mrs.
Ferris' Sunday-school ?" "When the judge is drunk he talks a heap about 'em.

It's beautiful to hear him then; you'd love it, Miss Betty," and Hannibal smiled up sweetly into her face.
"Does he have you go to Sunday-school in Raleigh ?" The boy shook his head.
"I ain't got no clothes that's fitten to wear, nor no pennies to give, but the judge, he 'lows that as soon as he can make a raise I got to go, and he's learning me my letters--but we ain't a book.

Miss Betty, I reckon it'd stump you some to guess how he's fixed it for me to learn ?" "He's drawn the letters for you, is that the way ?" In spite of herself, Betty was experiencing a certain revulsion of feeling where the judge and Mahaffy were concerned.

They were doubtless bad enough, but they could have been worse.
"No, ma'am; he done soaked the label off one of Mr.Pegloe's whisky bottles and pasted it on the wall just as high as my chin, so's I can see it good, and he's learning me that-a-ways! Maybe you've seen the kind of bottle I mean--Pegloe's Mississippi Pilot: Pure Corn Whisky ?" But Hannibal's bright little face fell.

He was quick to see that the educational system devised by the judge did not impress Betty at all favorably.