But Juno’s heart was not as light as she made it appear, for she had fretted through a whole winter and a late spring, and after a restless night she again invoked the aid of Maum Ysbel.
“I hain’t got nuffin ter pay yo’ wid, Maumer, but I’se dat miserbul I hatter come,” said Juno with a sigh.
The hag ceased stirring the contents of the little pot, and setting it off on the hearth to cool, she drew her wrinkled face into many more wrinkles, and took an inventory of Juno from head to foot.
“Yas, yo’ is, honey—yas, yo’ is!” and as she grinned, her solitary tooth was visible in her glee. “De coat yo’ got on am powerful ole an’ fady, an’ dat ap’un hain’t no ’count; yo’ gotter wash hit mighty easy fur ter w’ar hit one mo’ time; but yo’ got you’ moon year-bobs!”
Juno winced, for those big brass ear-rings were the pride of her heart; twice her lobes had been pulled through with the weight of them, but there was always room for another piercing.
The old woman leered and nodded. “Yo’ got you’ moon year-bobs, an’ my Becky’s Sairey been cryin’ uv her eyes out fur ’em ebber sence she seed ’em!”
“But, Maumer—” expostulated Juno.
“Don’ yo’ ’Maumer’ me!” said the old woman, crossly. “What you come here ter me fur if hit hain’t ter fetch dem bobs ter Sairey? Hain’t I seed yo’ in de coals, ’way ’cross de fiel’, ’fore yo’ lef’ de cabin, mek up you’ min’ ter fotch dem year-bobs ter Sairey fur what I gwine tole yo’? What I tells yo’ worf er heap ter yo’, but hit nuffin ter me. Solon hain’t my ole man!”
Juno was sick at heart. She had given up the blue-edged china cup to save Solon, but the big moon ear-rings were the wealth of her whole life.
The hoodoo threw a chip at a great toad that was napping in an old shoe beside the hearth, and, shaking the ashes from her pipe, she refilled it from her pocket. “Hain’t nuffin ter ole Ysbel, gal—her day done ober; she don’ claim no man, dead ner libin’! But I done tole yo’ ’bout dat yaller gal, hain’t I? Yo’ done seed her wid you’ own eyes, hain’t yo’? An’ I done tole yo’ how ter git shet uv her. Hain’t my keerin’, but if yo’ don’ wanter know no mo’ ’bout her, yo’ des tote dem moon year-bobs back home wid yo’!”