As it is written that a prophet is not without honor save in his own country and in his own house, it is deemed just that such matters as have to do with the coming to pass of Aunt Kate’s prediction concerning her brother Obadiah should be duly set forth herein that they may be not suppressed through local jealousy.
Obadiah received Virginia’s letter late one afternoon as he was about to return home. He did not immediately read it, but carried it with him that he might enjoy it in the greater seclusion of his own domicile. What took place thereafter is best described in the words of a confidential communication from Serena to Ike. “Dat ole man is er ra’in’ an’ er ta’in’ ’roun’ in dyar jes lak sumpin done stung ’im. It’s de badness er wo’kin’ out. De hot fiah o’ to’ment singe ’im an’ de cont’ary spi’it cry aloud fo’ he’p lak er lamb afo’ er ragin’ lion in de wilde’ness.”
Ike received these tidings concerning the spiritual pass of his employer with an interest that lacked the kindly sympathy which should be extended to a brother struggling with the forces of evil. He made answer in a casual manner, “Mr. Devil done run dat ole man to ea’th er long time ergo. He jes er settin’ back, lafin sof’ to hisse’f, er watchin’ de houn’s er scratchin’ an’ er clawin’. He gwine dig ’im out presently. Ah ’spects dat de ’pointed hour is at han’.”
At dinner Obadiah was in a surly mood which he vented upon Serena by making cutting criticisms concerning the food and service. She received his comments in silence, storing them up until a more propitious hour of reckoning. Meanwhile she solaced herself by certain outbursts at Ike.
Unconscious of impending disaster, the chauffeur had seated himself adjacent to the range. Here he rested from the labors of the day, having in view a tempting repast of chicken and sweet potatoes. He endeavored by agreeable conversation, to make smooth, or grease if you wish, its pathway to his stomach. “Miss Sereny, yo’all is er movin’ mighty peart dis evenin’,” he remarked in tuneful tones, as the old negress hastily re-entered the kitchen, severely wounded by a barbed dart of Obadiah’s temper.
She whirled upon him and snapped, “Shet up dat big mouf. Yer ’minds me o’ er ole alligator er settin’ thar workin’ yer jaws an’ ain’ say nothin’.”
A glance at Serena’s face showed Ike that storm signals were unmistakably flying. He thought to assuage the tempest by the tender of assistance. “Caint ah he’p you, Miss Sereny? Ah ’spects dat yo’all is plum ti’ed er wo’kin’ in dis yere hot kitchen.”
She fixed him with smoldering eyes. “He’p me, he’p me,” she repeated indignantly. “De onlies way er lazy nocount lummox lak yo’all kin he’p me is by er movin’ yer triflin’ carcass out o’ ma kitchen stid o’ layin’ ’round ma stove lak er houn’ dawg. Lif youse’f off dat chair, boy.”
Ike, the indirect victim of Virginia’s letter, removed himself in haste from his comfortable corner and retired to the cool steps of the back stoop, to allow the domestic cyclone to blow itself out before attempting again to procure his evening’s nourishment.
Obadiah had an uncomfortable night. A remembrance of the lance like thrusts of Aunt Kate, which, in the name of his daughter, had so cruelly lacerated him in spite of his armor of egotism, drove sleep away. Tossing upon a bed of discomfort, he heard the clocks toll out each passing hour until, weary and tired eyed, he left his bed, ill prepared to face the burdens and perplexities of the new day.