The smoky lamp on the high mantel-shelf shed its dim yellow rays on the men’s bare, close-clipped heads and the women’s hats. Some were old with broken brims and others were new and trimmed with gay ribbons; lack of proper apparel kept nobody home from meeting. God expects people to dress as decently as they can when they gathered to worship Him, but He knows all their needs and what they lack, and while men must always pray with bared heads, women must have their heads covered somehow.
Everybody sang with utmost strength. The room could hardly hold so much sound. Hearts swelled fuller and fuller as feet beat time and hands patted sharply, palm against palm.
“Juba-lee, Oh, yes. Juba-lee—Juba-lee.”
Maum Lou, the weakest frailest soul in the room, had begun the shouting. With short, shuffling, rocking steps she eased into the center of the room. Her arms were bent at the elbow, her veined old hands hung limp from her stiff wrists, “Juba-lee” her old lips quivered. Tears shone in her eyes, her joy was keen as grief.
One by one the women joined her, forming an ever-moving circle that widened steadily, while the men sang louder, faster, bending their legs deeper, popping their palms together in deafening claps:
“Shout! Oh, Christian, you done free!
Dis is de year of Juba-lee!
Juba-lee, Oh, yes. Juba-lee—Juba-lee.”
Doll gave her fretful baby to Maum Hannah to hold while she joined the shouters and her little stepson, Big Boy, came and stood beside Mary, holding to her skirt. Doll’s feet beat the floor with stiff thuds. The fringed paper circles swayed and rustled overhead, the lamp flickered in its socket, the fire settled low in the chimney. “Jubalee” was done, and singers and shouters had to catch breath and wipe the sweat off their dripping faces.
“Better tell Doll not to stomp so hard. ’E’s gwine kill eself if e don’ mind,” Andrew called out to Maum Hannah, loud enough for everybody to hear, but Maum Hannah smiled and shook her head. Andrew need not worry. Doll would not hurt herself. She was strong as an ox, and besides, God never lets a woman suffer from shouting His praises.
“Looka Lou,” Maum Hannah said. “Lou can’ hardly walk, ’e’s so old an’ weak, yet e can jump an’ shout hard as a young gal when Gawd puts de sperit in em. Many a time I look fo Lou to pop e gizzard-string right in de middle o de meetin floor. But God takes care o His chillen whilst deys a-shoutin. Don’ fret. Not ’bout Doll. Doll is a deacon’s wife now, an’ e has to shout harder’n de other womens.”
Andrew led off again, singing,
“Drinkin’ wine and wine and wine
Drinkin’ wine, wine, my Lord,
I’ll sit in Heaven ten thousand years
A-drinkin wine.”
“Let me hold Unex, honey, an’ you go git in de ring. A lil shoutin’ll straighten out you back an’ make you feel a lot better. I’d be on de floor myself if de misery in my crippled knee would let go a minute. But it’s got me hamstrung. I can’ hardly lift my right hand foot off de ground.”
Mary shook her head no. She was too sad to rejoice.
The low-burning fire gave out less light than heat. Andrew’s wet face shone, his eyes glowed, his whole body shook as his long arms, held now high, now low, hammered his hard palms together with terrible claps, beating time for the words of the spiritual which told about the joys of Heaven, the fearsome horrors of Hell. As his square jaws tightened, his strong white teeth bit the words into short cries which sprang out between his heavy lips. His heart was on fire, and its flame was spreading through the cabin. The women joined the singers, their high, thin, wailing notes shrill and fierce. “A-drinkin wine!” Children with bright wide-open eyes stood closer to the walls so as not to be in the way and get their bare feet tramped on by the frenzied shouters. Hot breaths heaved in and out, painfully praising God, praying to Him. “Glory to His name!” “A-men!” “Praise Him, sisters!” “Seek Jesus, sinners!” “A-drinkin wine!”
Maum Lou hopped higher and higher, outshouting them all. Only Mary sat still, her eyes wandering now and then toward the door, looking, watching, hoping for July still. The happiness of the others drove her sad thoughts into a deeper gloom. She would have left the shouting except that her own home was too lonely to bear. She sat listless, heedless of everything but her own dark thoughts, until the exhausted singers and the shouters stopped for good.
XIV
Meeting was over. The cabin was dim, the fire almost dead, the dim lamp sputtered out. Most of the crowd hurried out into the cool night.
A few of them lingered outside around the doorstep, the men smoking, the women talking low. The street was full of happiness. Some of the people hummed snatches of hymn tunes as they walked home. Some of the sinners were whistling.
A thin yellow moon had risen above the trees that rimmed the fields, and its light fell clear on the earth as Mary stepped carefully down the rickety steps out into the yard. Andrew greeted her kindly, “You baby sho is growin nice, Si May-e. E’ll soon be too heavy for you to tote, enty?”
“Gawd sends strength wid every load,” Maum Hannah answered as she grunted and hobbled down the steps. “Wait! Honey, wait on me! I want to walk a piece wid you. Stretchin my leg will help to run some o de misery out o my knee, den I can rest mo better tonight.”
Nothing but Maum Hannah’s kindness of heart made her come along to keep Mary company. Her limping steps were uneven and slow as the two of them walked slowly down the street together.
The road lay cool and white in the moonlight. A breeze sweet with honey from the September blossoms fanned Mary’s face. A late courting
