“Thank ’e, suh!” several voices spoke.
“Nevertheless, I believe that Vinegar Atts very richly deserves the one D which you in your kindness were trying to purchase for him.”
“Hear dat, now!”
“The word ‘doctor’ is an academic title, originally meaning a man so well versed in his department as to be qualified to teach it. I knew Vinegar Atts years ago as a prize-fighter, and I have seen him fight; and I assure you that in the department of pugilistic activity, Vinegar is well enough versed in the manly art of self-defense to know how to teach it!”
“Now you done said a plum’ mouthful!” Hitch Diamond, the Tickfall Tiger, howled. “Elder Atts teached me all I know ’bout fightin’!”
“Thirty years have passed since Vinegar became the pastor of the Shoofly church. In that time, negro preachers have come and gone through the other negro churches in this parish like a Mardi Gras procession, but Vinegar holds on to his job. It is my conviction that a man so endowed with the gift of continuance possesses the supreme art of pleasing all the people all the time, and should be qualified to teach that art to others.”
“Listen to dat white man!” a chorus of voices mumbled in admiration.
“I therefore believe that Vinegar Atts richly deserves the title of doctor, and I therefore greet him as a fellow clergyman with his honorary entitlements: ‘Dr. Vinegar Atts.’”
Vinegar was not slumped down in his chair now. He was sitting up in his broken-bottomed chair, his backbone as stiff as if he had swallowed a ramrod. Dr. Sentelle walked over and held out his hand. Vinegar sprang up with a half sob and seized that fragile white hand in his gorilla-like black paw.
There was a shout from that congregation which nearly lifted the roof off the church.