As hour after hour wore on, and Miss Vesta did
not reappear, and finally rang her bell for tea, Aunt Hominy was beside
herself with superstition.
"Honey," she exclaimed to Virgie, "jess you take in dis yer dried lizzer
an' dis cammermile, an' drap de lizzer in dat ole hat, an' sprinkle de
flo' whar ole Meshach sots wi' de cammermile, an' say 'Shoo!' Maybe
it'll spile his measurin' of Miss Vessy in."
"No, aunty, if old Meshach measured _me_ in, I wouldn't make the family
ashamed before him. Miss Vessy is powerful wise, and maybe she'll get
the better of that wicked hat."
"Yes," said Roxy, "she's good, Aunt Hominy, an' says her prayers every
night and mornin'. I've heard tell that witches can't hear the Lord's
name, and stay, nohow. Maybe Miss Vessy'll say in Meshach's old hat:
'Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, bless the bed that I lie on.' That'll
make the old devil jess fly up an' away."
"No, gals," insisted Aunt Hominy, "cammermile is all dat'll keep him
from a-measurin' of us in. Don't ole Meshach go to church, too, and hab
a prayer-book an'--listen dar, honey! ef she ain't a singin' to him!"
As Virgie answered the bell, Aunt Hominy took down her cherished
camomile and sprinkled the little children, and gave them each a glass
of sassafras beer to bless their insides.
"Lord a bless 'em!" exclaimed the old lady, "ef de slave-buyer comes,
Aunt Hominy'll take 'em to de woods an' jess git los', an' live on
teaberries, slippery-ellum, haws, an' chincapins.
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