Miss Mink's Soldier and Other Stories

								

of his keeper, weakly capitulated.
"Aunt Kizzy 'low'--I ain't sayin' she's right; I's jes tellin' you what
she 'low'--Aunt Kizzy 'low' dat, 'cordin' to de symtems, she
say',--an' I ain't sayin' I b'lieve her,--but she say' hit looks to her
lak I's sufferin' f'om a hoodoo."
"A hoodoo!" Amanda's scorn was unbounded. "Ef it don't beat my time how
some of you niggers hang on to them ol' notions. 'Tain't nothin' 't all
but ignorant superstition. Ain't I tol' you that a hunderd times?"
"Yes, you done tol' me," said Gordon Lee, putting up a feeble defense.
"You all time quoilin' an' runnin' down conjurin' an' bad-luck signs
an' all de nigger superstitions; but you's quick 'nough to tek up all
dese heah white superstitions."
"How you mean?" demanded Amanda.
Gordon Lee, flattered at having any remark of his noticed, proceeded to
elaborate.
"I mean all dis heah talk 'bout hits bein' bad luck to sleep wid de
windows shet, an' bout flies carrying disease, an' 'bout worms gittin'
in de milk ef you leave it settin' roun' unkivered."
"Not worms," corrected Amanda; "germs. That ain't no superstition;
that's a scientific fac'. They is so little you don't see 'em; but
they's there all right. Mis' Bertram says they's ever'where--in the
water, in the air, crawlin' up the very walls."
Gordon Lee looked fearfully at the ceiling, as if he expected an
immediate attack from that direction.
"I ain't sayin' dey ain't, Amanda. Come to think of hit, seems lak I
'member 'em scrunchin' 'g'inst my teeth when I eats. I ain't sayin'
nothin' 't all 'bout white folks superstitions,--I 'spec' dey's true,
ebery one ob 'em,--but hit look' lak you oughtn't to shet yer min'
ag'inst de colored signs dat done come down f'om yer maw an' yer paw,
an' yer gran'maw an' gran'paw fer back as Adam. I 'spec' Adam hisself
was conjured. Lak as not de sarpint done tricked him into regalin'
hisself wid dat apple. But I s'pose you'd lay hit on de germs whut was
disportin' deyselves on de apple. But dey ain't no use in 'sputin' dat
p'int, 'ca'se de fac' remains dat de apple's done et."
"I ain't astin' you to dispute nothin'," cried Amanda, by this time in a
high state of indignation. "I'm a-talkin' scientific fac's, an' you're
talkin' nigger foolishness. The ignorance jes nachully oozes outen the
pores o' your skin."
Gordon Lee, thus arraigned, lay with contracted brows and protruding
lips, nursing his wrongs, while Amanda disappeared into the adjoining
room, there to vent her wrath on the pots and pans about the stove.
Despite the fact that it was after eight o'clock and she had been on her
feet all day, she set about preparing the evening meal for her husband
with all the care she had bestowed on the white folks' supper.
Soon the little cabin was filled with the savory odor of bacon, and when
the corn battercakes began to sizzle promisingly, and she flipped them
over dexterously with a fork, Gordon Lee forgot his ill humor, and