Meanwhile, the wedding party also discussed the matter. And presently the much-troubled parson heard a tap at his door.
“Come in,” he said gloomily, and in came the wedding parties, all wreathed in smiles.
“Well, minister,” said the spokesman amiably, “we's been tarkin' an' tarkin' an' we's 'greed to mak' ta change!”
And the parson was mightily relieved. He did not understand how lightly matrimony sits upon the negro.
But that surely was nothing to the predicament of the lady who took her baby to be christened, and announced at the font in answer to the question, “How do you name this child?”
“Call de chile Beel-ze-bub.”
“Oh, but that's not a proper name for a child,” cried the horrified minister.
The proud mother looked at him doubtfully.
“But I get him outer de Bible.”
“But I tell you it's a wicked name,” asseverated the minister.