ill twist the tail of the tawny
lion and break the barbarous bandetta of benighted Britain!" This being
announced in one sentence, Bob promptly collapsed amidst cheers from the
porch and high squeaks from the darker circle--with the one exception of
Aunt Timmie. For Zack had maliciously whispered: "He done call you
a-dam-ant"--and, indeed, she had heard it with her own ears. A picture
of outraged dignity now, she stalked grandly away. It took ten minutes
to get the celebration once more in running order, and Aunt Timmie
brought to a better understanding.

The little boy advanced into the circle, placed a fire cracker in the
grass, and lit it. But, with the first sputtering of its fuse, the old
negress clasped him to her breast and rushed out of harm's way. It was
not an exhibition of which a Fearless Firer might have been proud, nor
did the screams of laughter greeting it serve to palliate his anger. But
it was neither fun nor anger with Aunt Timmie. Her mind was a torment of
fear lest he be maimed for life. Since early morning she had employed
every art, every diplomatic ruse in which her race is so proficient, to
avoid this dangerous pastime. Now suddenly, and without warning, she
stopped in a startled attitude of thought until all eyes were turned on
her, then sat upon the lowest step and broke into uncontrollable spasms
of mirth. Tears ran down her furrowed cheeks, and the oak step, that had
not these four generations yielded to the weight of Mays, creaked
beneath this onslaught of convulsive avoirdupois.

"Lawd," she finally gasped. "Dis heah fracas jest 'mind me of sumfin ole
fool Zack done one time!"

Uncle Zack screwed his face into a network of interrogating wrinkles and
furtively watched her. He was not yet sure whether to be amused or
offended.

"Marse John," she looked up, "does you 'member dat time he wuz deacon of
de new chu'ch, an' busted up de niggers' faith wid Sapry's weddin'
cake?"

It must have brought something to the Colonel's mind, for he began to
chuckle.

"Sapry wuz a yaller gal of de Cunnel's, who'se 'ngaged to mahry a dude
nigger on Mister Lige Dudley's place, turr side of town. Nuthin' 'ud do
but Zack must perform dat cer'mony--him jest bein' 'lected haid deacon
of de new chu'ch what had its meetin's under a big sycamoh tree down by
de crick. Dey called it a Foh Day Baptis' Chu'ch--dat is, fer foh days
you'se a Baptis', an' de rest de week you'se nuthin' 't all. Ole Zack
wuz crazy 'bo