The Earth Trembled | Page 9

filled her pipe, sat down and smoked furiously.
Uncle Sheba was appalled at the result of his Scriptural argument. He
would like to be king by divine right without any responsibilities. His
one thought now was to escape until the storm blew over and his wife's
tolerant good-nature resumed its wonted sway. Shuffling cautiously
around to the door he remarked meekly as he held it ajar, "I reckon I'll
drap in at de prar-meetin', fer I tole brudder Simpkins I'd gib dem a lif'
dis ebenin'."
His heart misgave him as he heard his wife bound up and bolt the door
after him, but he was a philosopher who knew the value of time in
remedying many of the ills of life. It must be admitted that he could not
get into the spirit of the meeting, and Brother Simpkins remarked rather
severely at its close, "Mister Buggone, I'se feared you'se zeal am
languishin'."

Uncle Sheba's forebodings increased as he saw that his house was dark,
and he fell into something like panic when he found that the door was
still bolted. He knocked gently at first, then louder and louder, adding
to the uproar by calls and expostulations. A light appeared in the
adjacent cottage, and Kern Watson, his son-in-law, came out. "Wat de
matter now, Uncle Sheba?" he asked. "Does yer wan' ter bring de
perlice? You'se been takin' a drap too much again, I reckon."
"No, I'se only been to prar-meetin', and Aun' Sheba jes' dun gone and
bolt me out."
"Well, you'se been cuttin' up some shine, an' dat's a fac'. Come in an'
stop you noise. You can sleep on de lounge. We don' want to pay ten
dollahs in de mawnin to get you out ob de caboose."
Uncle Sheba was glad to avail himself of this rather equivocal
hospitality, and eagerly sought to win Kern's sympathy by relating his
grievance. His son-in-law leaned against the chimney-side that he
might, in his half-dressed condition, enjoy the warmth of the coals
covered with ashes on the hearth, and listened. He was a tall, straight
negro of powerful build, and although his features were African, they
were not gross in character. The candle on the mantel near him brought
out his profile in fine silhouette, while his quiet steady eyes indicated a
nature not stirred by trifles.
"You'se a 'publican, Kern, an' you knows dat we culled people got ter
take keer ob ourselves."
"Yes, I'se a Republican," said Kern, "but wat dat got ter do wid dis
matter? Is Aun' Sheba gwine ter take any ob your money? Ef she set
her heart on helpin' her ole Missus an' young Missy an' arn de money
herself, whose business is it but hers? I'se a Republican because I
belebe in people bein' free, wedder dey is white or black, but I ain't one
ob dem kin' ob Republicans dat look on white folks as inemies. Wot we
do widout dem, an' wat dey do widout us? All talk ob one side agin de
toder is fool talk. Ef dere's any prosperity in dis lan' we got ter pull
tergedder. You'se free, Uncle Sheba, an' dere ain't a man in Charleston
dat kin hender you from goin' to work termorrow."

"I reckon I'se try ter git a wink ob slepe, Kern," responded Uncle Sheba
plaintively. "My narbes been so shook up dat my rheumatiz will be
po'ful bad for a spell."
Kern knew the futility of further words, and also betook himself to rest.
With Aun' Sheba, policy had taken the place of passion. Through a
knot-hole in her cabin she had seen her husband admitted to her
son-in-law's dwelling, and so her mind was at rest. "Unc," she muttered,
"forgits his 'sper'ence at de prar-meetin's bery easy, but he mus' have a
'sper'ence to-night dat he won't forgit. I neber so riled in my bawn days.
Ef he tinks I can sit heah and see him go'mandizin' when my honey
lam' Mara hungry, he'll fin' out."
Before the dawn on the following day, Uncle Sheba had had time for
many second thoughts, and when his wife opened the door he brought
in plenty of kindlings and wood. Aun' Sheba accepted these marks of
submission in grim silence, resolving that peace and serenity should
come about gradually. She relented so far, however, as to give him an
extra slice of bacon for breakfast, at which token of returning toleration
Uncle Sheba took heart again. Having curtly told him to clear the table,
Aun' Sheba proceeded to make from the finest of flour the delicate
cakes which she always sold fresh and almost warm from her stove,
and before starting out on her vending tour of the streets, the
store-room was locked against the one burglar she feared.

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