The cootie’s host showed not the faintest interest in the furor he had wrought.
He searched the scalp above his forehead, located his guest and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.
Miss Caroline watched the process in horrid fascination. Little Chuck brought water in a paper cup, and she drank it gratefully.
Finally she found her voice. “What is your name, son?” she asked softly. The boy blinked. “Who, me?”
Miss Caroline nodded. “Burris Ewell.” Miss Caroline inspected her roll-book.
I have a Ewell here, but I don’t have a first name… would you spell your first name for me?
Don’t know how. They call me Burris’t home.
Well, Burris, I think we’d better excuse you for the rest of the afternoon. I want you to go home and wash your hair.
From her desk she produced a thick volume, leafed through its pages and read for a moment.
“A good home remedy for—Burris, I want you to go home and wash your hair with lye soap.”
“When you’ve done that, treat your scalp with kerosene.” “What fer, missus?”
“To get rid of the—er, cooties. You see, Burris, the other children might catch them, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
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