“An’ it’s good enough fer me,” yelled the preacher, slapping his big hands together; “come on, brethren an’ sistern, an’ jine de moaners!”
Four-fifths of the congregation kept an eye on Arabella, knowing that it was only a question of time until she would come forward with a swing and a whoop, and tell what she had seen.
The eager throng did not have to wait long, for Arabella was eager to get out, and deliver her message. Laying aside her hat and veil she waltzed out, humming softly, and sweetly, in a melodious voice, “An’ I seed er vision, er vision, er vision!”
“I tole you so, honey, an’ she’s gwine to tell it,” shouted Uncle Jerry Howard, one of the class leaders.
As she rose I got a good look at Arabella, and I was very much impressed with her masculine features. She weighed about 225 pounds, was large of bone, muscular and black. She entered the aisle reeling and rocking.
“Clar de way dere,” said Parson Honeycutt, “an’ let Miss Simpkins pass!”
“It sho’ is de same ole Arabella,” declared Class Leader Jones, “an’ she’s gut trouble on her mind des as sho’ as you’s born’d.
“Come on, Sister Simpkins, an’ don’t keep us in dis agony! Tell de truf as you see it! Tell it an’ let us prepare fer de wust!”
“Dis mornin’,” sang Arabella, “as I wuz er comin’ er long-er de road, I seed er vision, er vision, er vision.”
“Tell it, sister; don’t keep back nothin’. What wuz it you seed?” came from the amen corner.