“Is she a Christian, Sister Williams?”

“No, she ain’t. I’s sorry to say it of a chile o’ mine, but she ain’t. She’s been on de moaner’s bench time after time, Sunday mawnins’ an’ prayer-meetin’ evenin’s, but she never would rise. I prays for her.”

“Well, when she takes Jesus, she’ll see de light! That’s what de matter with her, Sister Williams, she ain’t felt Him yit. Make her go to church when she comes back here.... I reckon you heard ’bout when de big revival’s due to come off this year, ain’t you?”

“No, I ain’t, not yet.”

“Great colored tent-meetin’ with de Battle-Ax of de Lawd, Reverend Braswell preachin’! Yes, sir! Gwine start August eighteenth in de Hickory Woods yonder by de edge o’ town.”

“Good news,” cried Hager. “Mo’ sinners than enough’s in need o’ savin’. I’s gwine to take Sandy an’ get him started right with de Lawd. An’ if that onery Jimboy’s back here, I gwine make him go, too, an’ look Jesus in de face. Annjee an’ me’s saved, chile! . . . You Sandy, bring us some drinkin’-water from de pump.” Aunt Hager rapped on the window with her knuckles to the boy playing outside! “An’ stop wrastlin’ with that gal.”

Sandy rose triumphant from the prone body of black little Willie-Mae, lying squalling on the cinder path near the back gate. “She started it,” he yelled, running towards the pump. The girl began a reply, but at that moment a rickety wagon drawn by a white mule and driven by a grey-haired, leather-colored old man came rattling down the alley.

“Hy, there, Hager!” called the old Negro, tightening his reins on the mule, which immediately began to eat corn-tops over the back fence. “How you been treatin’ yo’self?”

“Right tolable,” cried Hager, for she and Sister Whiteside had both emerged from the kitchen and were approaching the driver. “How you doin’, Brother Logan?”

“Why, if here ain’t Sis’ Whiteside, too!” said the old beau, sitting up straight on his wagon-seat and showing a row of ivory teeth in a wide grin. “I’s doin’ purty well for a po’ widower what ain’t got nobody to bake his bread. Doin’ purty well. Hee! Hee! None o’ you all ain’t sorry for me, is you? How de storm treat you, Hager? . . . Says it carried off yo’ porch? . . . That’s certainly too bad! Well, it did some o’ these white folks worse’n that. I got ’nough work to do to last me de next fo’ weeks, cleanin’ up yards an’ haulin’ off trash, me an’ dis mule here.... How’s yo’ chillen, Sis’ Williams?”

“Oh, they all right, thank yuh. Annjee’s still at Mis’ Rice’s, an’ Harriett’s in de country at de club.”

“Is she?” said Brother Logan. “I seed her in town night ’fore last down on Pearl Street ’bout ten o’clock.”

“You ain’t seed Harriett no night ’fore last,” disputed Hager vigorously. “She don’t come in town ’ceptin’ Thursday afternoons, an’ that’s tomorrow.”