“I dunno, ma’am.”
“How come you dunno?”
“I dunno how come.”
“You ain’ got no sense, dat’s how come! Blow up dis fire befo’ I lick you to death!”
Fear put strength into Breeze’s blowing, and the fire soon blazed up, cheerful and bright, but Big Sue was bursting with gall which she vented on Breeze.
He ran about trying to please her, his mouth dumb-stricken with misery. But her bitter abuse stung him to the very quick and overcame him completely. He burst out crying, just as the soft mud outside sucked loud at somebody’s footsteps.
Uncle Bill called in through the door, “Is anybody home?”
Big Sue’s voice shifted into a pleasanter key as she invited Uncle Bill to come in, then upbraided Breeze for crying like a baby about nothing.
Uncle Bill took Breeze’s part, and with a big red pocket handkerchief wiped Breeze’s face and eyes with gentlest care, and stroked his hands and tried to comfort him.
“Don’ cry, son. You’ eyes is like scraps o’ red flannel. Joy’ll think you’s a baby fo’ true. She wouldn’ b’lieve you kin shoot a gun an’ plow an’ ride a mule good as a man.”