"Whose hencoop d'ye reckon old man Pooler reached this fried chicken out'n?" asked Edd Whitmarsh of young Bob Crupper, when the two had retired to the back stoop to enjoy chicken washed down by a swig of whiskey.
"Whosever it was he had 'em fed fat," answered Bob, devouring a piece of the breast with great satisfaction. "I sholy do love a fat chicken. I kinder hope the joke was on Uncle Ezry."
With the leg of a chicken in one hand and a corn cake in the other, Jabez, now blissfully intoxicated, stood beside the table and rallied the girls as they came up. Most of them were too excited to care for food and Jabez knew it.
"Waal naow, Judy, my gal, hain't you a-goin' to do nothin' but nibble at a half of a wing, like you was a mouse on a pantry shelf? I seen you a-dancin' that fast an' a-laughin' that hard, a body'd think you'd be clean wore out an' a-needin' vittles. If you'd worked that hard at the washtub, I'll bet you'd be a-wantin' to eat a' right."
Judith's cheeks were scarlet and her dark eyes blazing. She looked at him from under her straight black eyebrows with the peculiar level gaze of hers. Even in the excitement of the moment there was something calm and critical, almost cold in that clear, unwavering look. She had always resented the self-appointed privilege of the old to make sport of the young.
"When you was seventeen did you eat hearty at parties, Uncle Jabez?"
Jabez did not notice the question. "Land, Judy," he said meditatively, "it makes a body feel old to see haow quick you young uns grows up. It seems like only day afore yestiddy you was a little brat a-crawlin' raound on the kitchen floor. When I'd step into yer dad's to see about borryin' a tool or gittin' shoes put onto a hoss, I'd have to walk careful to keep from settin' my foot daown on yuh. An' naow here ye be a tall, growed young leddy; an' if there's a handsomer gal in Scott County I'd like to have her showed to me."
Just then Jerry Blackford came up, grabbed Judith on both sides of her red and white checked waist and whisked her away to another corner of the room.
The music and dancing began again after Jabez had finished his chicken leg and ended in a wild, helter-skelter scramble, the young men chasing the girls around and around the room, catching them and kissing them with loud, resounding smacks. The girls exchanged slaps for kisses, and the sound of female fingers ringing on male cheeks peppered the air.
"Young folks to the wall; ole folks to the middle," called out the voice of Jabez. "This is dad's an' mammy's turn naow. Step out here you ole timers an' show the young uns haow we used to dance when we was lads an' gals."