achers are not
always on the right side; and Teck Pervis had promised his wife that
he'd not allow himself to be a tool for hungry broken down aristocrats
who only wished to use the poor as cats' paws. He took a big swallow of
coffee, drummed nervously with his fingers upon the table. "I jes es
well tell yer ther plain truth, Mandy," he said finally, "I got wi ther
boys las night and went ter ther Wigwam, an was made Cheerman ov ther
meetin. They lowed thet hit wus ter be ther mos importent meetin in ther
campain, an hit wus time fer white men ter be er standin tergither."
"Teck Pervis," exclaimed the wife, "Hev I bin er rastlin'in prayer an
pleadin ter ther Lawd in vain? Didn't I beg yer not ter fergit yer
religin in jine-in in wid sinners in doin eval?" "There aint er goin ter
be eny killin done, Mandy, we air jes er goin ter skeer ther Niggers way
from ther polls, an keep um frum votin." "I know all erbout hit," broke
in Mrs. Pervis. "Hit will en' in murder, for yer know thet Niggers won't
be drove." "Why all ther big guns war there Mandy; merchints, lawyers,
docters an ev'n preachers." "Laws e massy me!" exclaimed Mrs. Pervis.
"An if ther shepod wus ther, yer kaint blame ther flock." "Teck Pervis
did I understan yo ter say that--" "Don't git excited, Mandy, yer jes es
well git use ter ther new tern things air takin. Them preachers war thar
bekase they sed hits time fur white uns ter stan tergither. Radicul rule
mus be put down." Mrs. Pervis crossed her hands upon the table and
looked resigned. "Teck, do tell me what preachers war they?" "Why ef yo
own minister wus'n thar hiself I hope er hoppergrass may chaw me." "Teck
Pervis, do ye mean ter tell me thet Brother Jonas Melvin wus at thet
meetin?" "Yes, and Hoosay too, thet Presberteen man thet sines his name
with er dubble D hung on ter ther een." "Jonas Melvin is er windin up
his kerrare in Free Will Church. We'll hev no sich men fumblin wi ther
werd ev God in our pulpit. I never did think them Presbyteens hed eny
religin no way. They air full of book larnin, but havn't bin tech wit
ther sparit. This Hussy is lik ther res er these hi tone preachers thet
hang on ter this docterin thet ther yerth moves insted uv ther sun."
"Hoosay Mandy. Why don't yer tak proper! Hoosay!" "Well, he jes oughter
be named Hussy, fur he is er hussy. When ole sat'n meets them two at the
cross-road thars er goin ter be er tussle now I tell yer." "Well now yer
know thet ther scripter says cuss