“An’ er long body-er, body-er, body-er! An’ legs-er, fo’ long legs-er. Yes, yes, chillun, an’ fo’ legs-er!”
While this was going on I could not keep my eyes off of Parson Honeycutt, the large, striking-looking preacher, who was very superstitious. I was afraid he would go into convulsions. His eyes were stretched, his nostrils distended and his mouth in a quiver. He leaned over the pulpit and listened intently at Arabella. He was anxious to hear her prediction. The suspense was telling on his nerves, and his heart.
“What wuz it, sister?” he cried in his agony.
“An’ I look back-er, an’ seed dat it had a long pair years-er,” continued Arabella.
The excitement had reached its zenith. The tension was greatest, and the crowd could constrain itself no longer. The spell was broken when Elder Brown shouted: “An’ thank Gawd it were a mule-er!”
“Amen!” added the parson.
“Hold me, hold me, hold me, ef you don’t I’ll fly away to glory an’ leave you all,” bellowed Arabella.
“Brother Simpkins, hold yo’ wife,” cried a voice.
Cæsar Simpkins rose from his seat and started toward Arabella, who was prancing up and down the center aisle, but when she saw him coming she waved her hand at him and sung: