Inside Maum Hannah, dressed up in her Sunday clothes, with a fresh white headkerchief binding her head, a wide white apron almost hiding the long full skirt of her black and white checked homespun dress, awaited the guests. She was bending over the fire whose reddish light glowed on her cheerful smile, making it brighter than ever.
“Come in, son. You’s a early bird dis mawnin’. You’s a strong bird too, to tote sich a heavy load. Put de quilts on de bed in de shed-room, den come eat some breakfast wid me. I can’ enjoy eatin’ by myse’f, and Emma went last night to Zeda’s house, so e wouldn’t be in my way to-day.”
The bacon broiling on a bed of live coals, and fresh peeled sweet potatoes just drawn out from the ashes where they had roasted, made a temptation that caused Breeze’s mouth to water. But he hesitated. Cousin Big Sue was waiting for him, and he knew better than to cross her this morning.
“If you can’ set down, take a tater in you’ hand an’ eat em long de way home. A tater’s good for you. It’ll stick to you’ ribs.”
Breeze took the hot bit from her hand and started to hurry away, but she stopped him, “No, son! Don’ grab victuals an’ run! Put you’ hands in front o’ you, so. Pull you’ foot an’ bow, an’ say ‘T’ank Gawd!’ Dat’s de way. You must do so ev’y day if you want Jedus to bless you. All you got comes from Gawd. You mustn’ forgit to tell Him you’s t’ankful.”
Most of the cabin doors were closed, but the smoke curling up out of every chimney circled in wreaths overhead. Little clouds of mist floated low over the marsh, where the marsh-hens kept up a noisy cackling. Roosters crowed late. Ant-hills were piled high over the ground. All sure signs of rain, even though no clouds showed in the pale blue sky.
As soon as Breeze’s work was done, Big Sue had promised he could go to Zeda’s house or to April’s, and spend the rest of the day playing with their children, and now there were only a few more lightwood splinters to split. The prospect of such fun ahead must have made him reckless, or else the ax, newly sharpened on the big round grind-stone, had got mean and tricky. Anyway, as Breeze brought it down hard and heavy on the last fat chunk to be split, its keen edge glanced to one side and with as straight an aim as if it had two good eyes, jumped between two of his toes. How it stung! The blood poured out. But Breeze’s chief thought was of how Big Sue would scold him. Hopping on a heel across the yard to the door-step he called pitifully for Maum Hannah.
“Great Gawd!” she yelled out when she saw the bloody tracks on the white sand. “What is you done, Breeze? Don’ come in dis house an’ track up dis floor! Wha’ dat ail you’ foot?”
She made him lie flat on the ground and hold his foot up high, then taking a healing leaf from a low bush, growing right beside her door, she pressed it over the cut and held it until it stuck, then tied it in place. That was all he needed, but he’d have to keep still to-day. Maybe two or three days.
By ten o’clock Big Sue was outside the yard where Zeda stirred the boiling washpots. Onion-flavored eel-stew scented the air. The stout meeting benches had been brought in from under the house, two for each quilt. The quilting poles leaned in a corner waiting to be used. The older, more settled women came first. Each with her needle, ready to sew. The younger ones straggled in later, with babies, or tiny children, who kept their hands busy. They were all kin, and when they first assembled the room rang with, “How you do, cousin?” “Howdy, Auntie!” “How is you, sister?”