"Come, now, Uncle Johnny," said young Denham, "no winking, and I'll tell you. I was talking to Miss Kitty just now, and all of a sudden she cried out, 'Why, yonder's Uncle Johnny Roach, and he's walking, too. Uncle Johnny must stay to dinner;' and Mrs. Kendrick says, 'Yes, and Brother Branmim too.' And so there you are."
"Well, sir," exclaimed Brother Roach, "Kitty always had a piece of my heart, and now she has it all."
"A likely young man, that George Denham," said Brother Brannum, as Denham moved towards the house.
"You never spoke a truer word, Brother Brannum," said Brother Roach, enthusiastically. "Look at his limbs, look at his gait, look at his eye. If the world, the flesh, and the devil don't freeze out his intents, you'll hear from that chap. He's a-gitting high up in the law, and where'll you find a better managed plantation than his'n?"
What else Brother Roach said or might have said must be left to conjecture. In the midst of his eulogy on the living, the preacher in the house began his eulogy of the dead. Those who heard what he said were much edified, and those who failed to hear made a decorous pretence of listening intently. In the midst of the sermon Brother Roach felt himself touched on the arm. Looking up, he saw that Brother Brannum was gazing intently at one of the gables on the roof. Following the direction of Brother Brannum's eyes, Brother Roach beheld, with astonishment not unmixed with awe, the head and shoulders of a powerfully built negro. The attitude of the negro was one of attention. He was evidently trying to hear the sermon. His head was bent, and the expression of his face was indicative of great good-humour. His shirt was ragged and dirty, and had fallen completely away from one arm and shoulder, and the billowy muscles glistened in the sun. While Brother Brannum and Brother Roach were gazing at him with some degree of amazement, an acorn dropped upon the roof from one of the tall oaks. Startled by the sudden noise, the negro glanced hurriedly around, and dropped quickly below the line of vision.
"Well, well, well!" exclaimed Brother Roach, after exchanging a look of amazement with Brother Brannum. "Well, well, well! Who'd 'a' thought it? Once 'twas the nigger in the wood-pile; now it's the nigger in the steeple, and arter a while they'll be a-flying in the air,—mark my words. I call that the impidence of the Old Boy. Maybe you don't know that nigger, Brother Brannum?"
"I disremember if I do, Brother Roach."
"Well, sir, when one of 'em passes in front of your Uncle Johnny, you may up and sw'ar his dagarrytype is took. That nigger, roosting up there so slick and cool, is Bledser's Blue Dave. Nuther more, nuther less."
"Bledser's Blue Dave!" exclaimed Brother Brannum in a voice made sepulchral by amazement.
"The identical nigger! I'd know him if I met him arm-in-arm with the King and Queen of France."