grated back and Miss Willerton applied three x's to "Lot." Over it she wrote in pencil, "him." Now she was ready to go again. "Lot Motun called his dog. The dog pricked up its ears and slunk over to him." Two dogs, too, Miss Willerton thought. Ummm. But that didn't affect the ears like two "Lots," she decided.
Miss Willerton was a great believer in what she called, "phonetic art." She maintained that the ear was as much a reader as the eye. She liked to express it that way. "The eye forms a picture," she had told a group at the United Daughters of the Colonies, "that can be painted in the abstract, and the success of a literary venture (Miss Willerton liked the phrase, "literary venture") depends on the abstract created in the mind and the tonal quality (Miss Willerton also liked, "tonal quality") registered in the ear." There was something biting and sharp about "Lot Motun called his dog," followed by, "the dog pricked up its ears and slunk over to him," it gave the paragraph just the send-off it needed.
"He pulled the animal's short, scraggy ears and rolled over with it in the mud." Perhaps, Miss Willerton mused, that would be overdoing it. But a sharecropper, she knew, might reasonably be expected to roll over in the mud. Once she had read a novel dealing with that kind of people in which they had done just as bad and, throughout three-
