"When you seed de bride und de passon und de tother lams lak yu, Joshaway? tell me dat!" continued old Hannah provokingly.
"Nuff sed Hannah, yu dun und sot my po hed er akin wusser. You is de debbils own billy gote not me."
Reaching down into his greasy haversack the Kuklux brought out a great chunk of barbecue, and flourished it around old Joshua's head like a musician's baton.
"Dar now Hannah, what I tole yu, you sees whar my fafe is, don't yu?" said Joshua smiling. "Don't de Scriptur sez how dat ef yu hes fafe, ef yu hes fafe," he repeated with emphasis, "you can tote away mountains, tell me dat?"
"It mout," answered Hannah quizzically, "und den agin it mout'nt. Do hit say anyfing erbout barbyku?" continued Hannah, "Tell me dat."
"Oh, go long, nigger," tartly answered Joshua; "I haint ergwine ter argify de question no mo wid a debilish nigger dat actally mistrusts de bible; yu is dun und sot in yo ways, und all Filadelfy church aint ergwine ter save yu, nudder."
"Not ef it is ergwine ter preach dat dar kind ob fafe. I wudn't put no pendence in de slidin elder ef he was to say pine plank dat dat dar barbyku is in de bible."
"Don't de scriptur say how dat a passel ob horgs broke er loose outen de gap und run down er hill und choked up de sea? Tell me dat? Und what does yu make barbeku outen? Catfishes I spose!" asked Joshua contemptuously.
Hannah turned her back upon the old negro with the observation, "You is er black satan kotin de scriptur."