There was something pitiful about the child's brief recital. She had seen and noted everything, and the report she had inadvertently made to Mr. Sanders rang true to life, and almost humorously true to the results of Mr. Sanders's observation. His lips twitched, as they had a way of doing when he was in doubt whether to laugh or cry, which was often the case.
"Well, honey," he replied, making what excuse he could for poor humanity, "ef folks is ever gwine for to find out anything in this world they've got to stick the'r noses in ev'ry nook an' cranny."
"That's why I wanted to put the Boogerman in the grave-yard. Lucindy is his mother, and we could go and look under her bed, and peep in her cubberd, and find out everything she's got, and more too."
What reply Mr. Sanders would have made to this will never be known, for they were just going in the side gate that let them into old Jonas's back-yard. Old Jonas himself had come out of the house, and was now walking about in the yard with his hat pulled well down to his ears. The opening and shutting of the gate attracted his attention, and he turned to see who could be trespassing on his premises. When he saw Mr. Sanders fantastically arrayed, his coat turned inside out, and his hat upside down, old Jonas flung both hands over his head in a gesture of amazement.
"Why, what foolery is this? Good Lord, Sanders! have you turned lunatic? Why—why—if this kind of thing goes on much longer, I'll sue out a writ, and have you sent to the asylum; I'll do it as sure as my name is Whipple!"
"Please, sir, Nunky-Punky, let me off this time, and I'll never play wi' Miss Adelaide any more. An' the Boogerman may git you for all I keer! An' ol' Raw-Head-an'-Bloody-Bones'll crawl out from under the house whar he lives at, an' snap his jaws an' wink his green eyes at you; an' he'll ketch you an' put you in his wallet, an' chaw you up bone by bone—mark my words!"
"Sanders!" said old Jonas, with less anger and more earnestness, "what in the name of all that's sensible, is the matter with you?"
"Not a thing in the world but pyore joy, Jonas! Climb up in the waggon and let's all take a ride. I'm dead in love wi' this little gal here; won't you j'ine me? Nan Dorrin'ton used to be my beau-lover, but Nan's too old, an' now Adelaide's done took her place! Slap yourself on the hams an' crow like a rooster! Jump up an' crack your heels together twice before you come to earth ag'in. We've ketched the Boogerman, an' was gittin' ready for to fetch him home bekaze we had him whar he could nuther back nor squall, but jest about that time, here come Lucindy. She wa'n't gallopin', but she give us ez purty a sample of the ginnywine buzzard-lope as you ever laid eyes on. She grabbed the Boogerman an' give him the Putmon county witch-hug. Arter she'd smivelled an' smovelled him mighty nigh to death, she helt him off from her an' claimed him as her long-lost son; she know'd it bekaze he had a swaller-fork in one y'ear, an' a under-bit in the other, an' a wind-gall on the back of his neck. Her son, mind you! Well, when I know'd her son the first letter of his name was Randall Bowden, bekaze Bowden was the name of the man he belonged to—you remember him, Jonas?"
"He admitted me to the bar and came within one of frightening me to death," responded old Jonas.
"Well, you're a lawyer, an' you know mighty well that a man an' a citizen can't change his name wi'out a special law passed by the legislatur'. Now, ef the Boogerman was a plain nigger, it wouldn't make a bit of difference what he called hisse'f. But thar ain't no plain niggers any more; they're all sufferin' citizens. An' here he is callin' hisself Randall Holden. What do you think of that?"