n' made me ack so kind of no-'count?"

"I ain't needin' to marvel," she stated coldly. "I knows. Laziness! Jes'
pyure summer-time nigger laziness, wid a rich streak of meanness th'owed
in."

"Nome, you is wrong," he corrected her gently. "You is wrong there.
'Ca'se likewise an' furthermo' I also is been off my feed--ain't that a
sign to you?"

"Sign of a tapeworm, I 'spects."

"Don't say that, please, Ma'am," he humbly pleaded. "You speakin' in
sich a way meks me 'most discouraged to confide in you whut I aims to
confide in you. I'm tellin' it to you the fust one, too. 'Tain't nary
'nother soul heared it. Aunt Dilsey, I's grateful to you in my heart,
honest I is, fur runnin' me 'way frum yore presence yere jes' a little
w'ile ago. You never knowed it at the time--I didn't s'picion it also
neither--but you done me a favor. 'Ca'se settin' out yonder in the
stable all alone and ponderin' deep, all of a sudden somethin' jes' come
right over me an' I knowed whut's been the matter wid me lately. Aunt
Dilsey, I's felt the quickenin' tech."

"Better fur you ef somebody made you feel de quickenin' buggy-whup."

He disregarded the brutal suggestion.

"Yessum, I's felt the quickenin' tech. Ez you doubtless full well knows,
I ain't been 'tendin' much 'pon the big revival. But even so--even an'
evermo' so--the influence frum it done stretch fo'th its hand an' reach
me. I ain't sayin' I's plum won over yit, but 'way down deep insides of
me I's stirred--yessum, tha's the word--stirred. I ain't sayin' the
spirit of grace is actually th'owed me, but I feel prone to say I thinks
it's fixin' to rassle wid me. I ain't sayin' I stands convicted, but I
aims to be a searcher fur the truth; I aims to stop, look, an' lissen. I
ain't sayin'--" He broke off, the floods of his imagery dammed by the
skeptical eye which swept him; then made a lame conclusion, "Tha's whut
I sez, Ma'am, to you in strict confidences."

"Den lemme say somethin' to you. You figgers it's salvation you needs,
huh? I figgers it's vermifuge. Oh, I knows you, boy--I knows you f'um de
grass-roots up. Still an' wid all dat, ef you should crave to mend yo'
ways--an' de Heavens above knows dey kin stand a heap of mendin'!--I
ain't gwine be de one to hender you."

Against her better judgment her tone was softening. For she gave her
allegiance unrestrainedly to the doctrine preached at Emmanuel Chapel.
She was one of its stanch pillows. Indeed, it might be said of her tha