“W’y, she jes done it,” explained Ezekiel, explicitly.
“I see; but—how? Did Jonah get into some—some trouble?”
“Ya’as, ma’am! An’ he jes did!” assured Ezekiel dramatically; “but Mis’ Simons she jes completely dis’range de whul plan. W’y, yer see, it wuz dat ve’y day de Cap’n went off ter de ho’se fair, an’ lef’ ’er all ’lone wid jes me an’ Sarah an’ Marg’ret an’—an’—well, he would ’a’ lef’ ’er wid Jonah, too, but, yer see, Mis’ Simons she foun’ she’s ’blige sen’ Jonah on a r’al ’mportant erran’. ’Twuz ’long ’bout free o’clock in 433 de evenin’, an’ I wuz in de gyarden a-waterin’ de yaller lily-baid, an’ Jonah he wuz a-hoein’ on de li’l’ paff where cut ’roun’ siden de baid, w’en Mis’ Simons step up an’ say, ‘Jonah,’ she say, ‘I want yer ter stop a-hoein’ an’ do a erran’ fer me,’ she say.
“‘Yas’m,’ Jonah answer ’er. Yer see, Jonah think a awful heap o’ Mis’ Simons, an’ allays seem ter wanter do jes like she ax ’im ter. Co’se, ef he ain’t wanter, w’y, I s’pose he’d ’a’ did it jes same anyway, but he jes natchelly is wanter. So, ‘Yas’m,’ he say, an’ Mis’ Simons ’mence tellin’ ’im all ’bout it. She look up in de sky ez she’s talkin’, too, at de sun, where’s shinin’ righ’ down stret inter de yaller lilies, an’ she say: ‘Co’se yer’ll be back ’fo’ dark, Jonah; doan’ be no longer’n yer’s ’blige ter, ’cuz we wants yer back ’fo’ dark.’
“An’ Jonah smile at ’er an’ say he’ll go ’long right smart, an’ Mis’ Simons smile back at ’im an’ say, well, not ter kill ’isself ’bout it; an’ den Jonah he lef’ us dere siden de lily-baid, an’ de sun a-shinin’ down jes same.
“‘’Zekiel,’ Mis’ Simons ’mence after w’ile, an’ ’er voice soun’ kine o’ slow an’ dreamin’ like. ‘’Zekiel, does yer s’pose yer’ll ever git ter be ’s good a man ’s Jonah?’
“‘Wha’m?’ I say, kine o’ s’prise w’en she ax me right out ez plain’s dat. ‘Yas’m, I s’pose I is, Mis’ Simons,’ I say.
“She look at me r’al quick an’ laf, same way I seen ’er do ser many times befo’.
“‘I doubt it,’ she say, still a-smilin’; ‘I doubt it, ’Zekiel.’
“Well, co’se I ain’ know jes ’zackly w’at she mean talkin’ dat-a-way, but look ’mos’ like she think I ain’t ser good’s Jonah is, an’, anyway, I ain’t r’ally like way she spoke, so, ‘Yas’m,’ I say, ‘I reckon I kin be jes ez good’s Jonah!’ I say, an’—an’ I didn’ ’mence ter cry, nudder, but—but I ’mence hoein’ on de li’l’ paff, an’ waterin’ de yaller lilies, twell Mis’ Simons pat me light ’n’ sof’ on de haid—kine o’ laffin’, too.