“How ’bout a little nip o’ toddy?” a deep voice spoke out of the darkness and Big Sue turned quickly around to face it, then she laughed out with pleasure. “No, t’ank you, April. I wouldn’t fool wid dat whisky. You don’ know if it’ll kill you o’ not.”
“Come off, Big Sue,” the voice chided, “when did you get so scared o’ whisky?”
“I ain’ scared o’ good whisky,” Big Sue gurgled as he walked up near and took her hand. “Dat last one you fetched me is sho’ fine. But I sho’ don’ trust de whisky Jake makes! Lawd!” She broke into a loud laugh. “I’m pure shame’ to say it but somebody told me when Jake gits in a big hurry fo’ de whisky he don’ stop wid puttin’ lye in de mash! Dat scoundrel goes straight to de horse stable an’ gits de yeast to make em work! My stomach tries to retch if I much as t’ink on de way Jake makes whisky! Jake’s a case in dis world!”
April and Uncle Bill both laughed with her, and Jake’s voice called out cheerfully from the fire-brightened doorway, “Git you’ partners ready fo’ de square dance! Git you’ nickels ready too! Fi’ cents a set! All you chu’ch-members better git on home befo’ Sherry squeezes dat ’cordion. I’d hate to see anybody hab sin to-night! Cherry’s gwine mash out tunes dat would tickle a preacher’s toe! A deacon’s ear would git eetchy! Git you’ partners, boys! Don’ be wastin’ time!”
“How you like de boy’s looks?” Big Sue mumbled, casting a smiling look up at April.
“I ain’ had a chance to look at em, not yet,” he answered low.
Sherry squeezed a long chord out of the accordion and the crowd shouted with laughter. Uncle Isaac battered the drum, and swarms of them trooped inside the cabin, falling into step with the accordion’s frolicsome measure, but instead of Uncle Bill’s leading the way straight home, he took a stand outside the cabin by an open window to watch. The tall strange man leaned over and said to Breeze, “You’s too low to see, son. Le’ me hold you up.” And he lifted him as if he were no heavier than a feather.
The light was dim. Two glass kerosene lamps burned on the high mantel-shelf, doing their best to help the fire light up the room. Music and drum-beats and lively chatter swung into time with dance steps. The confusion flowed into clean-cut swing.
Every man had his hat on. Some were tilted back, some balanced on the side, some pulled to the front; few were right and straight. Many of the dancers wore shoes, and the loose boards on the floor rose and clattered to the regular beat of their feet.
“Did you ever seen people dance before?” April murmured in Breeze’s ear.