Every gust of wind fanned out sparks from the flames and a smell of oak smoke that was flavored with powder from firecrackers or from the occasional Roman candles and skyrockets that flared clear up among the stars.
From Mary’s doorway she could see a ring of people, men and women, children, all ages, all sizes, holding hands to make a big ring, moving round and round the big fire, singing as they circled, and keeping step to the song while a blindfolded girl outside the ring sang answers to their questions:
“Aun’ Katie dead?” the chorus chimed.
“Yes, ma’am,” came a girl’s voice in answer.
“Is you been to de buryin?” chimed again.
“Yes, ma’am,” fell promptly, clearly.
“Did you git some cake?”
The circle stepped faster.
“Yes, ma’am,” keeping quickened time.
“Did you git some coffee?” faster still.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you git some tea?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Den, shoo, ducky, shoo, don’t come by me!”
Shouts of laughter followed as the blindfolded girl tried to catch somebody in the ring, to take her place. If July were at home, Mary would join them, but he had taken his box and gone to the crossroads store to pleasure himself with his friends there.
The merry musical voices were as crisp as if the frost had touched them, and the steps were light and quick.
Nobody would sleep tonight. The cattle and the sheep would get on their knees and pray like people when midnight came. The all-night watch meeting would be held at Maum Hannah’s house, and most of the people, sinners and Christians, would be gathered there, but some of the sinner men would go off to the woods and build up a fire and shoot craps until dawn.
The old cowbell was ringing. Meeting-time had come, and the cabin doors were flung open, filling the dark street with ruddy light, while people poured out of them, laughing, talking, greeting one another. When Christmas comes people have to pray as well as play. July had taken his box and gone off to pleasure himself, so Mary went to meeting with June, sitting near the door and watching the people crowd in. They came in groups, laughing and talking until they reached the door, then they all grew sober and silent and came in quietly, sitting close together so as to make all the room they could. The old meeting benches stayed under the house except at prayer-meeting time on Sunday and Wednesday nights, and again on Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve when the people spent the whole night singing and shouting and praying to God.
All the members in good standing took places up in front, close to the fire, but the sinners had to sit wherever they could find room, back against the wall or on the steps outside. Mary sat back with the sinners.
When the room was packed and the steps full to the very bottom one, the service began with a hymn which Brer Dee read out of a book two lines at a time:
“Whilst shepherds watched dere flocks by night,
All seated on de ground.”
There was a deep hush while the old man raised the tune, then everyone joined in with such deep feeling that Mary was thrilled to her very heart. Christmas was a wonderful time. When the hymn was ended and Brer Dee said, “Let us pray,” she got down on her knees and closed her eyes and prayed for herself and July and for their little unborn child who would be almost big enough to hang up his stocking by the time Christmas came again.
Brer Dee read out of the Book how Mary and Joseph went all the way to Bethlehem to pay taxes, and how, because there was no room for them in the Inn, Mary’s son, little Jesus, was born in a manger. Only three wise men on earth knew who the child was and they came from a far country to see him and bring him gifts, but the angels in Heaven knew him well, and they sang all night in the sky, while a great star shone to give them light. Hallelujahs and shouts of Glory to God rose all about over the room. Mary herself could hardly keep back her tears, so moved was she with the story. Her joy would have been complete if only July were with her, singing to God and asking humbly for His blessing during the coming year. But July was as likely as not already in a crap game, and since it was Christmas Eve, he would hardly be home until morning. But she was not lonely or unhappy, here with so many kind friends thick all around her, singing and praying and hearing the story of that other Mary who was the mother of God’s own son.
VIII
The short winter passed quickly and before Mary knew it spring had come. The old black plum tree beside her door hid its knotty black branches with soft white blossoms, which became thicker and sweeter hour by hour as the sunshine gathered strength, and when honeybees climbed in and out of them showers of fragrant petals were scattered around the old tree’s foot. The crab apple thickets were masses of soft pink. The birds which had gone away for the winter had come home and were picking out nesting-places. Tender green leaves screened a brown nest in the fig tree where a mockingbird laid its eggs. The woods and hedgerows were alive with bird chatter. Woodpeckers and jays and redbirds scolded and fussed among themselves noisily. Hummingbirds fluttered in and out of the red woodbine. A wren chose her last year’s home in the knothole at one side of Mary’s door. A bluebird used her same nesting-place in the corner post of the garden fence. Larks hopped about the fields
