The Bishop and the Boogerman

by Joel Chandler Harris

In reply to this, Adelaide said she was afraid Cally-Lou wasn't very well. "Won't you come in and see her, Bishop? The truly-ann Bishop used to come to see my mother before they sent her where my papa was—the place where people get well when they're sick. Yes! and he used to bring things in his pocket—all sorts of goodies—gum-drops and candy kisses, and he said that if I ate them, all by myself, he wouldn't be hoarse in his throat any more when he had to holler loud at the sinners to keep them from goin' to the Bad Place; and once when I ate a whole heap of them at once, he cleared his throat, the truly-ann Bishop did, and said he was almost cured."

"I'll shorely try that trick ef it'll he'p me for to be a truly-ann Bishop, bekaze I've been so hoarse lately that I can't see my own voice in the lookin'-glass, no matter how I holler. Nothin' shows up in the glass but a little muddly mist, an' I have to wipe that off wi' my red silk han'kcher. Speakin' of Cally-Lou, when had I oughter pay my party call?"

"She doesn't like for anybody to see her because she isn't right white," Adelaide explained, "but she's asleep now, and you might come in to see her now if you'll walk easy."

Talk about burglars! Talk about thieves in the night! Talk about wild animals with padded feet creeping and stealing on their prey! All of them could have taken lessons in their craftiness from Adelaide and Mr. Sanders. Yes, and for a brief moment or two from old Jonas, for he joined the creeping procession, impelled by some mysterious motive. They stole into the darkened parlour, Adelaide in advance, and paused when she waved her hand. Then she pointed to the darkest corner.

Mr. Sanders will tell you to this day that he thought he saw something dim and dark huddled there—some wavering shape that had no outlines; but just at the critical moment, just when they were all about to see Cally-Lou, what should old Jonas do but stumble against a chair, as he craned his neck forward? Well, of course, with such awkwardness as this on the part of a man old enough to be Adelaide's grandfather, their scheme was ruined. Cally-Lou heard the noise, opened her eyes, and fled from the room so nimbly and with such dispatch that none of them could see her. Even Adelaide only caught the faintest glimpse of her as she whisked out of the room, and all she could say, was, "Did you ever see any one so foolish?" Then she ran after Cally-Lou, pursuing her into the sitting-room and then into the library, where she seemed to have caught her, for the others heard her upbraiding and scolding her in the style approved by all parents who are strict disciplinarians.

"Jonas," said Mr. Sanders, "did you see anything? Didn't you notice somethin' in the corner—it mought 'a' been nothin' an' then, ag'in, it mought 'a' been the biggest thing mortual eyes ever gazed on—didn't you see somethin' like a shadder?"

Old Jonas's reply was very prompt. He smacked his lips as though he tasted something nice. "No, Sanders! I didn't see anything, and what's more, I didn't expect to see anything."

Mr. Sanders opened wide his eyes and stared at old Jonas as hard as if he had been some rare kind of curiosity placed on exhibition for the first time.

"I hope you'll know me next time you see me!" exclaimed old Jonas, somewhat snappishly. "Do you want me to tell you I saw something, when in fact I saw nothing?"

Mr. Sanders passed his hand over his face, as though the gesture would better enable him to contemplate the sorrowful condition of his companion. "Jonas," he said with a sigh as heavy as if he had been a sleepy cow in a big pasture, "ef you'd 'a' had your two eyes put out a quarter of an hour arter you were born, you couldn't talk any more like a blind man than you did jest then. You said you seed nothin,'an' a blind man could say the same, day or night."