“Sho’, I feel good. Like a lamb a-jumpin’. I could start now and travel till to-morrow’s sun shine, an’ I wouldn’t feel noways weary.”
“Lawd, you have luck,” Big Sue sighed. “But do lend me de loan o’ you’ pipe befo’ you fix de fire. I’m pure weak I want to smoke so bad. I’m scared to smoke my own. I believe it’s conjured. It ain’ smoked right since I lent em to Leah last Sunday a week gone, right yonder at Heaven’s Gate Church.” Her breath had been cut off shorter than ever to-day. She ate a ’possum leg last night for her supper and it was kinder spoiled from being kept too long. She hadn’t felt exactly well since. Spoiled food ever did make her sick. She didn’t know why.
“It’s because you’s such a delicate lady!” Uncle Bill declared. “You ought to learn to drink milk. Nice sweet milk. And eat honey. De angels lives on ’em. So de Book says.”
“I dunno,” Big Sue answered doubtfully. “I never could stand nothin’ ’bout a cow. Not de milk or de meat or de ways. Gi’ me a hog all de time.”
Uncle Bill got his pipe out of his side coat pocket, twisted its rough wooden stem tight into its bowl and handed it to her, his lean face brightening with a smile.
“E ain’ gwine smoke good by its new. I went to de fig trees no longer’n yestiddy an’ cut dis stem, by my old stem was wore out altogether. E’s gwine bite you’ tongue. I’m too sorry. I wanted you to talk some sweet talk to me to-night!”
“Lawd, Uncle Bill, you ought to know my tongue better’n dat. I got a strong tongue in my mouth. E’s trained. I done got em used to tastin’ all kinds o’ red pepper an’ seasonin’. E kin make friends wid any pipe stem ever was. But you go look at my li’l’ boy.”
Breeze shut his eyes tight as Uncle Bill leaned down to look at his face.
“E’s a good-size boy, but you’d be better off wid a husband, Miss Big Sue. You see dese sticks? I went all de way to de beach to git em. Dey’s driftwood, an’ I’m gwine burn ’em on you’ fire to-night, an’ make a wish whilst dey’s green.”
“Wha’ dat you gwine to wish to-night?”