Slowly the rings were removed from Juno’s ears, and the old woman, with a leer, popped them into her capacious pocket before resuming her professional attitude.
“Um! um! wall, de sap be up by ter-night, an’ ter-morrer yo’ play sick an’ cross de ribber, ’case yo’ gotter whup her on her own groun’. Yo’ cain’t tech her on you’ own, no matter what happin, ’case she kin ’do’ yo’ den, an’ she’s de bestes’ hoodoo in dis kentry, ’ceptin’ ole Ysbel, fur all dat she’s on’y er gal. Don’ yo’ say nuffin ter-night at de bre’k-down, ner do nuffin, but yo’ gwine ter see sights, if you does what I tells yo’. Mek lack ter Solon dat yo’ hain’t gwine sho’ ’nough, dat yo’ ailin’ er sumpen, an’ let him gin out dat he gwine ter see his daddy. Yo’ lay low twel yo’ hears dem fiddles des er-talkin’ in de middle er de night, des ’fore dey sarve de supper; den yo’ tek you’ foot in you’ han’ an’ git down dar; but don’ yo’ go in, an’ don’ yo’ do nuffin den, fur hoodoo ’oman hain’t lack odder ’oman, an’ you cain’t git eben wid ’em de same way; but wait twel hit bre’k up, den cut you’ grape-vine, an’ den yo’ ’ll run ’gin sumpen in de dark; hit Ole Cinder Cat. All yo’ hatter do is ter foller uv her, ’case I’se fixed her so’s she gotter sarve yo’; an’ den when yo’ sees what yo’ lookin’ fur, lay de grape-vine on, quick an’ fas’, ’case hain’t nuffin ail Solon but dat yaller hoodoo!”
It was turning twelve when Old Cinder Cat rose from the hearth, and, stretching herself, bounded through the doorway. Juno woke with a start.
“Um! Juno better be gwine too. Mighty fine business fur her ter be in, long er hoodoos an’ Ole Cinder, but she sho’ gwine wid ’em dis time, mun!”
The squeak of the old fiddle under Pompey’s fingers, mingled with the even patting, was wafted through the open door. Juno looked at the height of the moon.
“Hit’s turned midnight now, an’ I’m erg-wine.”
But she first sought the grape-vine by the spring. The bright moonlight flooded everything as with the light of day, and, carefully cutting the vine between certain joints, according to the formula of Maum Ysbel, Juno hid it beneath her skirt, and took the little path towards the sounds of midnight gayety.
“THE CHARM WAS FOREVER BROKEN, AND THE COMELY HOODOO KNEW IT”
The barn was radiant with tallow dips that winked and sputtered through the decorations of pine boughs like gorgeous fire-flies. A dance was in progress. The men were ranged in one line, the women in another; at a certain point they met and joined hands. But, arrayed in gorgeous apparel different from the others, a great red paper flower nodding in her hair, her white teeth shining between parted lips, the leader of the dance was the comely yellow girl whom Juno had seen before, and her delighted partner was none other than the prodigal Solon himself. Juno’s fingers instinctively sought the grape-vine for another purpose than that indicated by Maum Ysbel, but, clinching her hands, she withdrew into the outside shadows again, and the Cinder Cat suddenly rubbed against her dress and purred.