bài baccarat huyền that to

how can i make money by writing

datatime: 2022-12-06 21:46:50 Author:qsjJUzDx

"What do I have to know that fer?" Max asked.

The next Monday, Sam brought Max over to the school. The teacher, an impoverished Southern lady, came to the door and smiled at Sam.

The teacher stared at him indignantly. "Mr. Sand, how dare you talk to me like that? Do you think the parents of the other children would want them to attend school with your son?"

"Good morning, Mr. Sand," she said.

"I signed you up for it," Sam said. "I paid ten dollars."

The next Monday, Sam brought Max over to the school. The teacher, an impoverished Southern lady, came to the door and smiled at Sam.

"You don't," Max said with the peculiar logic of children. "And it don't bother you none."

The teacher looked at him, then at Max, then around the yard in front of the school cabin. "Where is he?" she asked in a puzzled voice.

This was enough reason for Kaneha. "He will go," she said simply. Big knowledge meant big medicine. She went back to her stove.

The teacher looked down at him in stunned surprise. Her nose wrinkled up in disgust. "Why, he's an Indian" she cried. "We don't take Indians in this school."

The teacher stared at him indignantly. "Mr. Sand, how dare you talk to me like that? Do you think the parents of the other children would want them to attend school with your son?"

"I signed you up for it," Sam said. "I paid ten dollars."

"I signed you up for it," Sam said. "I paid ten dollars."

Sam answered in the same language. "A source of big knowledge. Without it, our son can never be a great chief among the White Eyes."

The teacher curled her lip cuttingly. "We don't take half-breeds in this school, either. This school is for white children only." She began to turn her back.

"I signed you up for it," Sam said. "I paid ten dollars."

"What do I have to know that fer?" Max asked.

"Times is different now," Sam said. "When I was a boy, there warn't no need for such things. Now ever'thing is readin' or writin' "

"Times is different now," Sam said. "When I was a boy, there warn't no need for such things. Now ever'thing is readin' or writin' "

The teacher looked down at him in stunned surprise. Her nose wrinkled up in disgust. "Why, he's an Indian" she cried. "We don't take Indians in this school."

"You're goin'," Sam said, roaring suddenly. "I already made arrangements. You can sleep in the back of Olsen's Livery Stable durin' the week."

The next Monday, Sam brought Max over to the school. The teacher, an impoverished Southern lady, came to the door and smiled at Sam.

Max, uncomfortable in his clean buckskin shirt and leggings, dug his bare feet into the dirt and spoke shyly. "Howdy, ma'am."

"Good mornin', ma'am. I brought my son to school."

The teacher stared at him indignantly. "Mr. Sand, how dare you talk to me like that? Do you think the parents of the other children would want them to attend school with your son?"

FeedBack
Copyright © 2022 Chrales (United States) All rights reserved. The information contained in Chrales (United States) may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without the prior written authority of Chrales (United States)