“Who did you say done it?” The Reverend was disturbed. The greenish cast of his long-tailed coat and derby hat spread over his swarthy face, and he sat down so suddenly on the steps that Big Sue’s roars hushed and her company manners came back. Scrambling to her feet and casting a fierce look toward the window where Breeze stood, she sympathized:
“I’m too sorry. No wonder you’s sick! Eatin’ de legs of a livin’ frog! But dey’s dead now. I made Breeze knock ’em in de head a while ago. Breeze is a crazy boy. When I git home to-night, I’m gwine gi’ em de heaviest lickin’ ever was. I ain’ gwine leave a whole piece o’ hide on em. No, suh! I’m gwine bust his crust, sure as you’ bawn.”
“Whe’d you git dat boy? Is he you’ own?” The Reverend’s voice was weakly.
“No, Lawd. My son, Lijah, is got plenty o’ sense. Breeze is a li’l’ boy I got f’om Sandy Island to stay wid me, by I was so lonesome in de night by myself.”
The Reverend took a handkerchief out of the pocket in the tail of his long coat and wiped the sweat off his face, then he leaned his head on his hand. Big Sue was anxious.
“Would you like a li’l’ sweetened water, suh?”
He shook his head.
“How ’bout a li’l’ cookin’ soda? Dat might settle you.” He didn’t need a thing. He must go now. He and Miss Leah were to talk over the hymns so she could lead the choir. He was subject to spells of swimming in the head, but they didn’t last long.
His mention of Leah’s name changed Big Sue’s tone altogether. She laughed out.
“Lawdy, I bet Leah’ll strut to-day. April took em to town an’ bought em some teeth. Dey don’ fit good like you’ own, dough. Leah wouldn’ trust to chaw wid ’em, not fo’ nothin’. I don’ blame em, dough. I’d hate to broke ’em if dey was mine. Leah is sho’ tryin’ to look young dese days. E natural hair is white as cotton, but e polishes em wid soot an’ lark.”