“Yes, Gawd!” The choir’s humming swelled and spread to the women of the congregation.
“He got stronger and stronger as He fasted.”
“Yes, suh!” Bodies rocked and swayed to the mournful tune.
“He got strong as the devil!” The preacher’s eyes flashed bright behind his glasses, but Maum Hannah jumped forward at such reckless words.
“He beat the devil at his own game!” The Reverend shouted as he shook his clenched fists.
“Glory! Hallelujah!” The congregation cried loud above the women’s solemn wordless chanting.
“Yunnuh hold fast! Get strong like Jesus!” The preacher stamped on the floor.
“Yes, Gawd! Praise His name!” The women were getting to their feet and patting time.
“God’ll feed you on the bread of life!”
“Do, Master!” Maum Hannah cried out so clear, that he looked at her and caught Breeze’s eye. The holy spirit left him all of a sudden. Maybe he thought of the frog legs, maybe of old Breeze, but he stopped short and cleared his throat and fumbled with the leaves of the book. He presently said the time had come for making their offerings. They must sing an old hymn, and the people must come forward and lay their gifts on God’s holy altar, which was a small pine table in front of the pulpit. They crushed into the aisle, an array of gaudy dresses, weaving in and out among the dark men. Both aisles were choked with singing people. Waves of hot breath smote Breeze in the face. Sunday shoes squeaked. Outside in the churchyard a mule brayed long and loud. Coins rolled and clinked against one another on the table. One rolled on the floor and fell through a crack, lost, as Uncle Bill gave Breeze a brownie to carry up.