“I’m gwine wish fo’ you to marry me.”
“Great Gawd, Uncle Bill!” Laughter almost choked her. “I can’ marry you! I got a livin’ husband right now! You must be forgot Silas ain’ dead!”
“Silas is been gone seven years, Miss Big Sue. Gawd don’ expect no lady to live single longer’n seven years. No, ma’am. You kin marry me if you want to.”
“I dunno,” Big Sue tittered. “Sometimes my mind do tell me to marry again. But didn’t you promise Aun’ Katy you wouldn’ marry nobody? What ’ud she say?”
Uncle Bill heaved a deep sigh. “I can’ help dat. I miss Katy so bad, I mighty nigh goes crazy yonder to my house by himself. If you would marry me Katy wouldn’t mind. Not a bit. Katy had sense like a man. Lawd, how I miss dat ’oman! I done made up my mind to marry again an’ I’m gwine wish a weddin’ dress on you whilst I burn dese same sticks on you’ fire to-night.”
He spoke solemnly, and kneeling on the hearth he laid the driftwood sticks carefully crossed on the coals. Then he blew deep breaths until a slow green flame curled up. “Fo’ Gawd’s sake, Uncle Bill! Quit you’ crazy doin’s! You might miss an’ conjure me fo’ true.” Big Sue giggled until her fat sides shook.
“Hush you’ laughin’ till I makes my wish, Miss Big Sue! You got me all eye-sighted!”
“Mind how you wish in de face o’ dat fire!”
A woman’s voice flung the drawled words into the room so unexpectedly that Big Sue jumped to her feet, calling, “Who dat?” and Uncle Bill gave such a start that his wish was knocked clean out of his head.
“Don’ git scared. I ain’ nobody but Zeda. How yunnuh do dis evenin’?”