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"Look hyeah, Mis' M'ree," she exclaimed, without the formality of prefacing her remarks, "I wants to know whut's de mattah wif Brothah Simon what mek him ac' de way he do?" "Why, I do not know, Eliza, what has Uncle Simon been doing?" "Why, some o' you all mus' know, lessn' he couldn' 'a' done hit. Ain' he ax you nuffin', Marse Gawge?" "Yes, he did have some talk with me." "Some talk!
"Well, Mam' Henry, I may 'a' been mistook, but sho' I took hit fu' Scripter. Mebbe de preachah I hyeahd was jes' inlinin'." "Well, wheddah hit's Scripter er not, dey's one t'ing su'tain, I tell you, dem two is singin' deyse'ves togeddah." "Hit's a fac', an' I believe it." "An' it's a mighty good thing, too. Brothah Gidjon is de nicest house dahky dat I ever hyeahd tell on.
Oh, yes, thah wuz considahble groanin' an' wailin' an' sich like, an' a whole passel o' sinnahs come furwa'd to be prayed fur; but I could see thet Brothah Ranson wuz disapp'inted et the lack o' 'citement, an' thet he wuz fixin' to mek a big jump uv some sort.
"But whut I been doin', sistah, whut I been doin'?" "You know." "I reckon I do, but I wan' see whethah you does er not." "You been gwine ovah to de wes' plantation, dat's whut you been doin'. You can' 'ny dat, you's been seed!" "I do' wan' 'ny it. Is dat all?" "Is dat all!" Lize stood aghast. Then she said slowly and wonderingly, "Brothah Simon, is you losin' yo' senses er yo' grace?"
Sister Dicey's laugh rang out loud and musical before she replied, "Nevah you min', Brothah Williams. I don' see yo' back bowed so much by de yoke." "Oh, honey, I's labo'in' even ef you do'n know it, but you'll see it on de day." "I 'low you labo'in' de mos' to git dat wife o' yo'n a new dress," and her tormentor's guffaw seemed to admit some such benevolent intention.
The information was elicited from her that she loved "Brothah Simon" and wished to marry him. "'Love laughs at age," quoted Mr. Marston again when the girl had been dismissed. Mrs. Marston was laughingly angry, but speechless for a moment.
And so the division had kept up for years. It was hardly to be believed then that Uncle Simon Marston, the very patriarch of the Marston flock, was visiting over the border. But on another Sunday he was seen to go straight to the west plantation. At her first opportunity Lize accosted him: "Look a-hyeah, Brothah Simon, whut's dis I been hyeahin' 'bout you, huh?"
One by one they came and listened, and went away with a new expression on their faces, and a new ambition in their hearts. To all these people he was "Brothah Chadwick;" to the three old slaves bound to him by ties almost as strong as those of kinship, he could never be other than Jintsey's boy; but to two persons he was known as the "Rev'und Gawge."
"Hi, oh, Brothah Jim, I's des' in time." Jim sat with his mouth open. "Draw up a cheer, Brothah Pahkah," said Mandy. Her husband rose, and put his hand over the possum. "Wha wha'd you come hyeah fu'?" he asked. "I thought I'd des' come in an' tek a bite wid you." "Ain' gwine tek no bite wid me," said Jim. "Heish," said Mandy, "wha' kin' o' way is dat to talk to de preachah?"
"Howdy, Sistah Po'tah," he said, gravely shaking hands. "That was a fine disco'se we had the pleasuah of listenin' to this evenin'." "'Deed it was, Brothah Fostah," she answered. "How's all up yo' way?" The Little Colonel, running on after a couple of white butterflies, paid no attention to the conversation until she heard her own name mentioned. "Mistah Sherman came home last night, I heah."
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