“What’s Major Peafowel doing?”
“He jes’ stan’in’ up dar watchin’ dat fier on Tinker, an’ wushin’ hit ’ud bu’n up Lilly Dove’s house.”
Immediately the children became interested in watching the forest fire which enveloped a part of Tinker Knob.
“Did Lilly’s house burn down?” asked Mary Van with feeling.
“Bu’n up er holy Ghos’ bird’s house?” exclaimed Phyllis. “Why, gal, dat’s de bird de Holy Ghos’ sen’s, an’ exsen’s ’pon, whinsomev’r hit come down ’pon de earf! Jes’ like Jay burds is Satan’s burds,—fokes says dey goes ter de Bad Place ev’y Friday night, an’ I ’speck dey sees er heap er fokes useter live heah too.”
“Mammy, I’m skeered God don’t know the mountain’s on fire,” said Willis anxiously.
“Go off, boy, de Lawd ain’ needin’ you ter hope him ’ten’ ter His biznes’—now ef dat wus er Jay burd, hit wud er bin burnt clean up, but bein’s hit’s er Holy Ghos’ dove, dat hope ole man Noah ter lan’ de Ark, de Lawd ain’ gwine let her swing er feath’r. Dis hyah ain’ de fus’ time Lilly Dove put her trus’ in de Lawd. Dat hit ’tain’t,” as she took from the floor the book of Robin Redbreast, “an’ dis hyah Cock Robin,” placing her finger on the picture, “is de ve’y man dat start all de fracus.”
“Didn’t Robin like Lilly Dove?” Willis left the window to look at the book.
“Him an’ Ginny Wren near ’bout foolish ’bout Lilly Dove—dat’s howcum Tishy Peafowel ter tu’n ’ginst Lilly like she done.”
Mary Van went over to Willis, and together they spread the book upon the floor where the gay-colored pictures of the birds accentuated the feathered characters of Phyllis’s mind.