Tall tangled heads of grass were in some of the beds, and a bold vine whose topmost branch was gay with orange-scarlet bells swayed from the tip of a magnolia tree. The bright bunch of blossoms nodded at Breeze with a slow persistence, sunlight filled each flower cup, and its hot scent streamed out in the soft wind. There was something queer in its steady silent bowing. A light sound hissed through the stiff magnolia leaves whenever the mild wind freshened, but the magnolia tree held every crisp, brown-lined leaf still. Unmoved. The light stir of the morning’s breeze could not move that tall dark tree, which was splashed here and there with over-ripe blossoms.
“Son, is you see de way dat trumpet vine is a-wavin’ at you? Better bow back at em!”
Breeze did bow the best he knew how, but Big Sue laughed.
“When you bow, you must pull you’ foot.” She showed him how to do it.
She reached up and broke off a half-open bud, and tearing its creamy petals apart showed Breeze how they closed over a core of gold. She showed him the sun-dial marking the time of day. A spattering of water called them to see the birds enjoying a bird bath; a flock of pigeons dropped with a slanting flight, then hurried off. A tinkling of sheep bells told that a flock browsed peacefully not far away. When a blue-jay perched overhead with a screech, Big Sue shook a fat fist at him. “Git off,” she scolded. “You don’t know to-day’s Friday. Is you forgot you is due to tote a stick o’ wood to Satan? Git on to torment, lessen you done been dere a’ready dis mornin’!” A streak of scarlet flashed where a cardinal darted across a bright path of sunlight as a hammer banged down on a nail. Old deaf Uncle Isaac was mending a broken place in the fence, and talking to himself. His deaf ears had not heard Big Sue and Breeze, and his murmured talk droned on out of his stammering lips.
“Po’ old Uncle Isaac!” Big Sue sighed. “When e can’ talk to de livin’ e talks to de dead. His eyes is so full up wid speerits right now, he don’ see we. You kin see speerits, too, son, enty? You’ ma said so.”
Before Breeze had time to deny it, all of a sudden she turned on him and gave a sharp cry. “Looka here, boy! You been a-steppin’ in my tracks! I know it! A’ awful pain is come right on de top o’ my head! You done it! You needn’ shake you’ head. I was feelin’ good when I come in dis flowers yard. Git a stick! Now broke em in two an’ cross ’em! Put em in one o’ you’ tracks! Git me shet o’ dis pain! I declare to Gawd, dat’s a provokin’ t’ing you done! I was feelin’ so good too. If you try to conjure me, I’ll kill you!”
Breeze denied it humbly. He had not meant to step in her tracks. He didn’t even know it would work her harm. When he had placed the broken sticks as she bade him, she spoke more kindly, and warned him to be careful never to step in anybody’s tracks.
Once she missed and stepped in Uncle Isaac’s tracks and it gave him a terrible tooth-ache. She had to cross twenty sticks before she got him rid of it. Poor Uncle! They’d better not go near him. He was on the side of the garden where spirits stayed. Let him talk to them.
“My head is done better now, t’ank Gawd,” she sighed, adding that she’d ask Uncle Isaac to supper to-night. He could tell so many funny stories. He could explain, exactly, why the grass is green and the sky is blue. Why the sun shines in the daytime and the moon and stars shine at night. He knew what the thunder said when it spoke. He could whistle the first tune the wind ever whistled. One time, the night was a great big black giant that ran round the sun, trying and trying to catch the day. Uncle Isaac said so and he knew more about the first men and women who ever lived than Adam and Eve ever dreamed of. He got it all at first-hand, by word of mouth, from Africa, where the world itself was born and a terrible black God made all men black. Big Sue’s narrow black eyes softened, her voice grew mild, her fat fingers toyed with a rose. She said Uncle Isaac knew a strange tale about the high-tide and the evening star, and another about why the morning clouds eclipse the moon. They were pretty tales, all about love, but Breeze was too small to hear them.