Eager to get back and tell Lizzie the outcome of his visit to Tempe, Chester took the short cut across the pasture. The moonlight was so brilliant, he could trace the entire length of the worn pathway through the shining dew-dripping weeds along its edges. A cool breeze was blowing from the woods, and the dampness of the grass causing him to feel chilly, he pulled up his coat. As he walked along, singing, he was conscious of being pleased that he had accomplished something. He had spoken his mind and felt satisfied that Tempe would stop talking, and no blame would be attached to his name. Lizzie would be glad to know how he straightened things out with Tempe, and she would stop worrying about his getting into trouble.
When he reached home, the door was closed and the house was in total darkness. Lizzie had gone to bed; and he knew he would have to go in quietly, because if he wakened her, she would be cross and make a racket.
Disappointed that he would have to wait until morning to tell her about his visit, he undressed quietly and got into bed. The sound of snoring in the next room told him that Lizzie was in her “first sleep”; so he knew that it would be a long time before she would awake. Thinking he might forget his disappointment, he began to pray.
However short and simple of form his sincere appeal may have been, it served him as might any formula of cabalistic worth. Bringing to his childish mind not only quiet forgetfulness; but quick, conquering somnolence, with a myriad train of fantastic visions; tantalizing his superstitious soul, and holding him in helpless captivity until the mystic hour of midnight came to break the spell.
A rooster, high up on a branch of the persimmon tree in the side yard, looking out across the pasture, and seeing the moon slipping down the heavens, flapped his wings lustily and gave a ringing salute that floated off on the wind to tell his fellow-fowls that morning was on the way to greet the sleeping world.
Chester heard the clarion sound in the tangle of his dream, and awaking with a start, he jumped out of bed and ran to Lizzie’s room, calling to her excitedly:
“Lizzie! You ’wake?” He shouted, going to the bed-side, and shaking her roughly. “Wake up, for Gawd sake; an’ lemme talk to you!... Did you hyeah dat noise jes’ now befo’ I come in de room?”
Lizzie sat up quickly and answered in an angry tone:
“Boy, you mus’ be losin’ yo’ min’, ain’t you? W’at you mean, comin’ hyuh an’ wakin’ me out my slumbers, axin’ me ’bout any noise, like somebody done gone crazy?... Go back to bed, yonder in yo’ room. An’ damn you an’ dis kind o’ humbug; way in de middle o’ de night like dis!... You ain’ walkin’ in yo’ sleep, is you?”