Part 16 (1/2)

”But dis yere lodge is gwine have a more 'portant puppose 'en jes' to fune'lize de daid,” protested Sister Eldora. ”We aims to do somethin'

fur de livin' whilst yet dey's still alive. Curious you ain't tuck notice of de signs of de times ez dey's been expounded 'mongst de people by Doct' Duvall. He sho' kin 'splain things in a way to mek you a true believer.” The advocate of the new order of things sank her voice to a discreet half whisper. ”Sist' Turner, we aims at gittin' mo' of de rights dat's due us. We aims to see dat de pore an' de lowly an' de downtrodden-on is purtected in dey rights. We aims--”

”Num'mine whut you aims at--de question is, is you gwine be able hit whar you aims? An' lemme tell you somethin' more, Sist' Eldora Menifee.

I ain't needin' no ladies' auxiliary to tell me whut my rights is.

Neither I ain't needin' to pay out no twenty cents a week to find out neither. W'en it comes to dat, all de ladies' auxiliary w'ich I needs is jes' me, myse'f. I knows good an' well whut my rights is already an' Ise gwine have 'em, too, or somebody'll sho' git busted plum wide open. Mind you, I ain't sayin' nothin' 'ginst dis new man nur 'ginst dem w'ich chooses to follow 'long after his teachin's. Ise jes' sayin' dat so fur ez my jinin' in wid dis yere lodge is concern' you's wastin' yore breath. Better pa.s.s along, honey, to de nex' one on dat list of your'n, 'thout you's a mind to stay yere an' watch me dish up Jedge Priest's vittles fur 'im.”

”Mebbe if Doct' Duvall wuz to come hisse'f an' mek manifest to you de high pupposes--” began Sister Eldora. But Aunt Dilsey cut her off short.

”Wouldn't mek no diffe'nce ef he come eighty times a day an' twice ez offen on Sunday. Anyway, I reckins my day fur jinin' things is done over.”

There was a dead weight of finality in her words. She rose heavily. As Sister Menifee departed Aunt Dilsey became aware of the presence of Jeff Poindexter. He was emerging from behind the door.

”Been hidin' inside dat kitchen lis'enin', I s'pose?” demanded Aunt Dilsey.

”Couldn't help frum hearin',” admitted Jeff. It was evident that he was not deeply grieved over the failure of Sister Menifee to make headway against Aunt Dilsey's opposition. ”At the last you suttinly give dat woman her marchin' orders, didn't you, Aunt Dilsey?”

”An' sech wuz my intention frum de start off,” she confided. ”Minute she come th'ough dat back gate yonder I knowed whut she wuz comin' fur an' I wuz set an' ready wid de words waitin' on de tip of my tongue.”

”Me, I don't fancy dat Duvall neither,” stated Jeff. ”I ain't been sayin' much 'bout him one way or 'nother but I been doin' a heap o'

steddyin'.”

”Yas, I knows all 'bout dat too,” snapped Aunt Dilsey. ”I got eyes in my haid. You los' yore taste fur dis yere big-talkin', fine-lookin' man jes ez soon ez he started sparkin' round dat tore-down limb of a 'Phelia Stubblefield. Whut ails you is you is jealous; hadn't been fur dat I lay you'd be runnin' round wid yore tongue hangin' out suckin' in ever'thing he sez ez de gospil truth same ez a lot of dese other weak-minded ones is doin'. Oh, I know you, boy, frum ze ground up! An' furthermo' I knows dis Doct' Duvall likewise also, even ef I ain't never seen him but oncet or twicet sence fust he come yere to dis town all dress' up lak a persidin' elder. I don't lak his looks an' I don't lak his ways, jedgin'

by whut I hears of 'em frum dis one an' dat one, an' most in special I don't lak his color. He ain't clear brown lak whut I is, an' he ain't muddy black lak whut you is, neither he ain't high yaller lak some is.

To me he looks most of all lak de ground side of a nickel wahtermelon.

An' in all de goin' on sixty-two yeahs of my life I ain't never seen no pusson callin' theyselves Affikins dat had dat kind of a sickly greenish-yaller-whitish complexion but whut trouble come pourin' frum 'em sooner or later, an' most gin'rally sooner, lak manna pourin' from de gourd of de Prophet Jonah. Dat man is a ravelin' wolf, ef ever I seen one.”

”Whut kind of a wolf did you say, Aunt Dilsey?” asked Jeff.

”Consult de Scriptures an' you won't be so ignunt,” she answered crus.h.i.+ngly. ”Consult de Scriptures an' you'll read whar de ravelin' wolf come down on de fold, an' whut he done to de fold after he'd done come down on it wuz more'n aplenty. An' now, boy, you git on out of my kitchen an' go on 'bout yore business--ef you's got any business, w'ich I doubts. I ain't got no mo' time to waste on you den whut I is on dat flighty-haided Eldora Menifee, a-traipsin' round frum one back do' to 'nother with her talk 'bout ladies' auxiliaries an' gittin' yo rights fur a dollah down an' twenty cents a week.”

Jeff faded away. It was comforting in a way to find Aunt Dilsey on his side, even though her manner rather indicated she resented the fact that he was on hers. A few evenings later he found out something else. He was made to know that in another and entirely unsuspected quarter the endeavors of the diligently crusading and organizing Duvall person had roused more than a pa.s.sing curiosity.

One evening, supper being over, Judge Priest lingered on in his low-ceiled dining room smoking his corncob pipe while Jeff cleared away the supper dishes. It was the same high-voiced deliberately ungrammatical Judge Priest that the kindly reader may recall--somewhat older than at last accounts, somewhat slower in his step--but then he never had been given to fast movements--and perhaps just a trifle balder.

”Wuz dey anythin' else you wanted, jedge, 'fore I locks up the back of the house an' lights out?” Jeff inquired when the table had been reset for breakfast.

”Yes, I think mebbe there wuz,” drawled the old man. He hesitated a moment almost as though at a loss for a proper phrasing of the thing he meant to say next. Then: ”Jeff, what's come over your race in this town here lately?”

”Meanin' w'ich, suh?” countered Jeff. ”Me, I ain't notice nothin' out of the way--nothin' particular.”

”Haven't you? Well, I think I have. Jeff, I don't want to be put in the position of pryin' into the private and the personal affairs of other folks, reguardless of color. I have to do enough of that sort of thing in my official capacity when I'm settin' in judgment up at the big cote house. But unless I can get some confidential information frum you I don't know where else I'm likely to git it, and at the same time I sort of feel as ef I should try to get hold of it somewheres or other ef it's humanly possible.”

”Yas, suh.”

”Now heretofore in this community the two races--white and black--have got along purty tolerably well together. We managed to put up with your shortcomings and you managed to put up with ours, which at times may have been considerable of a strain on both sides. Still we've done it.

But it seems to me here of late there's been a kind of an undercurrent of discontent stirrin' amongst your people--and no logical reason fur it either, so fur as I kin see. Yet there it is.

”There wuz that rumpus two-three weeks ago down in Market Square. A little more and that affair could have growed into a first-cla.s.s race riot. And here last Sat.u.r.day night followed that mix-up out by the Union Depot when Policeman Gip Futtrell got all carved up and two darkies got purty extensively shot. And night before last the trouble that occurred on that Belt Line car out in Hollandville; that looked mighty threatenin', too, fur a while. And in between all these more serious things a lot of little unpleasantnesses keep croppin' up--always takin'

the form of friction between whites and blacks.