“I is!” Sour Sudds replied.
“Laller, is you gwine take dis man to be you’ reg’lar cotehouse husbunt; is you gwine cook his grub, patch his britches, clean up atter him, keep him in chawin’ terbaccer, an’ excusin’ all yuther men’s take in washin’ only fer him, an’ stick only to him so long as you bofe lives togedder, so—he’p—you—Gawd?”
“I’m are!” Lalla snickered.
“J’ine yo’ right hands!” Vinegar bellowed. “Let us pray!”
There was a moment’s silence, then, in a tone which throbbed with indignation and rebuke, Atts said to Sour and Lalla:
“You two niggers shet yo’ eyes! You got to shet yo’ eyes to pray!”
“De Good Book say, ‘Watch an’ pray,’” Sour protested.
Vinegar glowered at them until they shut their eyes; having satisfied himself that they would observe the proprieties during his petition, he howled:
“Oh, Lawdymussy! Pity dese here two people whut is done united deir lives an’ deir forchines. Don’t let ’em got no deevo’ce, even if dey wants it bad! An’ I shore hopes dar won’t be no quollin’ or fussin’ or fightin’. Amen!”
“O Lord!” Peter Pellet whispered in imitation of Vinegar, as he slowly turned the crank of the camera. He spoke only loud enough for Rouke to hear: “O Lord, deliver me henceforth and forever from such a film hog as this big fat slob of a preacher!”