Solon danced like one possessed, regardless of time or tune, always keeping his eyes fixed upon the nodding crimson flower; and the yellow girl, with lips drawn tight over the white teeth, watched him with the eyes of possession.
Then, as he sank upon a bench, exhausted, for Solon was none of the youngest, the voice of an elder whispered in his ear: “Better g’long home ter de ole ’oman! We’ll hab you up in de chu’ch fur dis!”
The watching eyes in the darkness were burning like coals of fire, but Solon pulled loose from the detaining hand. “What I keer ’bout gwine home ter de ole ’oman? What I keer ’bout bein’ fotched up? I ’ain’ bothered!”
And, despite his age, in every dance Solon led, with the smiling face and crimson flower beside him. Others changed partners, but Solon’s was always the same.
Now the candles had burned out, the few that remained were guttering and flickering, and then there was one last dance, in which a madness seemed to seize Solon, and as he whirled he drew from his pocket a long string of blue glass beads and threw them around the yellow hoodoo’s neck. The watching eyes in the darkness glowed with passion, for Solon’s gift was Juno’s sole remaining ornament, now that the moon ear-rings had been bartered.
“Lemme hol’ on ter myse’f tight, O Lord!” she groaned. “Des fur er little while!” And again the Cinder Cat brushed her skirts and purred.
“I gwine foller you in er minit, Cinder! I gwine follow you!”
The silence that was golden lay upon Juno’s lips, and it was a repentant Solon who came to her next night, for the Cinder Cat was gone forever from the hearth, the charm was forever broken, and the comely hoodoo knew it.
Shamefacedly and ill at ease, Solon lolled and smoked, but, still preserving her silence, Juno prepared a sumptuous supper for her prodigal.