[CHAPTER X]
KONAH TURNS STORY-TELLER
The next time there was story-telling in Konah's presence, she unwittingly became the chief actor. It came about in this wise. A pack of children, tired of romping, had collected under the projecting roof at the front of Konah's house. Sprawled around in all possible places, and in all conceivable attitudes, they gave their imagination loose reins, and seemed to be trying to outdo one another in the extravagance of their fancies. It was the hour of deep twilight, and the air seemed to palpitate with an invisible life. Mystery and magic seemed but harmonies of the hour.
"Ah, hey!" said Konah excitedly, her eyes dancing and her face glowing with animation, "I get one fine story."
"Pull um!" came in hearty chorus from all around. This is what she told.
[THE DEVIL'S MAGIC EGGS.]
"Dis story 'bout two mate (two wives of one husband). De one he die, he lef he pickin to he mate. Dis ooman no lek um, he hate um, he cruel to um. De pickin get wattah, he beat ress (rice), he broke wood, he do eberyt'ing, but w'en he done do all dis, de ooman bin flog um. He yown pickin he no wuk, he no duh do not'ing. So dey do tay (till) de two pickin sick wid yaws. Now de ooman sorry fo' he yown pickin, he no scrub um good; de odder pickin he scrub good, he scrub um wid hatred, but he make de yaws done quick. Now he tire fo' mine dis pickin, he wan' make de debble yeat um.