Sickness and death determined negro society in Lockburg. All visited the sick. All attended the funeral. Why should not all attend all other functions? All answered the question for themselves, and attended regularly.
A score of men and women were chatting in Sister Renfro's bedroom when the preacher peeped in at the door and paused long enough to say: "Come out to 'sifting meeting' to-night. Spread the news."
"Will Jiles be there with his lantern?" asked Neal Grafton, a friend of Jiles.
"Never mind about that," answered Sister Renfro. "Say what you please about him, but he's a preaching man."
Sister Renfro's guests soon began to spread the news. Neal Grafton was the most active of all. He stood where he could command four corners.
"Sister Polly," he called to a rather corpulent woman who was passing with a heavy bundle of clothes on her head, "stop a minute—'sifting meeting' to-night!"
"What you say, Brother Grafton? Come here! You knows I can't hear like I used to. I caught cold from shouting at the big meeting five years ago. Who could have kept sober feet? That was a preaching man."
"I say, Sister Polly——"
"Now, stop, son. Let me get in hearing order." After wiping her face with her apron, she said: "Now go on, son."
"Sister Polly, there will be a 'sifting meeting'——"