“Do yunnah hurry, fo Lawd’s sake,” she called to the two men who were coming behind her as fast as Budda’s feet could possibly shuffle along.
The mule’s head was finally turned toward home, and the buggy wheels rolled in the water-filled road. Mary tried not to moan, not to rock her body back and forth.
“Beat de mule, Andrew, make em step more pearter.”
Andrew frailed the mule’s haunches as hard as he could, but the beast’s feet were hampered by floods of water and his eyes blinded by sheets of rain.
“Don’ fret bout de mule, Si May-e, you hold on to dat child till we get you home. It ain’ so far now.” Andrew spoke kindly, but Budda was wretched.
“Great Gawd, Si May-e,” he cried, “you can’ turn em loose in dis buggy.”
Mary had to laugh with Andrew at Budda’s terror.
“I tried to get you to go wid Auntie to de midwife class last Monday momin, Budda, an’ you wouldn’t do it. You better had. Den you wouldn’ be so scared now.”
XXIV
“Lawd, we had a time!” Mary said to Maum Hannah when all was over. Then she looked at her two newborn sons and said gently, “Dat picture o’ Hell scared me so bad I couldn’ wait for de moon to change, enty? An’ de pain hit me so hard, I couldn’ pray not to save my life! No, Jedus!”
Maum Hannah did not go to bed, but sat by the fire and smoked. She never slept in any bed but her own. Whenever she stayed from home at night she sat by the fire and nodded and smoked without even taking off her shoes.
Mary and the newborn babies were in the big room bed. Mary was too tired even to talk to Seraphine who had unexpectedly come to the landing on the boat that afternoon but could not get home until after the storm. Maum Hannah was mortified for the girl to find Mary like this. She had been away with fine town people trying to make something of herself, while her mother lived in sin. Mary ought to quit her ways. She had a daughter almost grown now. Maum Hannah talked until the storm had passed and the night was still. She sat close to the hearth, for the rain had chilled the air and the flickering fire gave out a grateful warmth. Mary was glad to see her rest, for hurrying around so fast must have made her tired. She smoked a pipeful and laid her pipe on the hearth and settled herself with folded arms to sleep a little. She had hardly dozed when something roused Mary. She opened her eyes and peered through the dim light at her two babies. They were sound asleep. They did not move the slightest bit. Yet she heard a baby’s faint cry. She called Maum Hannah, who hurried to the bed and leaned over and looked. Both the babies were asleep. Sound asleep. But she certainly had heard a baby’s voice. One had waked her.
A dream maybe.
Maum Hannah laughed and went back to her chair by the fire. Mary was getting foolish. Waking herself up with dreams.
Maum Hannah sighed, then turned in her chair suddenly. She heard a baby too and she was not dreaming. She hobbled to the bed. No sound came from there. What was it she heard? Where did that cry come from? Not from Mary’s boys. Both of them slept. What could it be?
The room was almost dark for the fire burned low. Maum Hannah said she felt nervish. A ghost must be walking around under the house. Mary was too brazen. Something was bound to happen to her. Maybe a plat-eye was outside; screech owls and whippoorwills had both been crying. She had put the shovel in the fire to stop them.
She added a light wood knot to the fire and a blaze flared up bright. At the same time a feeble wail sounded. Mary was sure it was in the room, but Maum Hannah waited to hear it again. Maybe a little goat had gone under the house out of the storm. There it was again. What was it? The old woman went to the corner; the sound seemed there, behind the organ. She didn’t feel comfortable close to that organ. Why did Mary have it? Organs were tools of the devil. The idea of Reverend Duncan wanting one in the church.
Could that sound like a baby crying come out of the organ? Satan might be playing it. Mary had talked a lot of impudent talk lately. It made her uneasy.
“Open you eye, Auntie. Wake up, good,” Mary called out sharply.
Something strange was in that corner by the shed-room door. What in God’s world was it? Where did it come from?
“Open you eyes an’ look good, Auntie.”
Maum Hannah leaned and picked up something, then she hurried to the fire with it. She broke into a laugh.
“Great Gawd! What is dis? Whe you come f’om, gal? You most scare Aun’ Hannah to deat’! Gawd bless you! Lemme wrop you up an’ git you warm. Po lil ting! You mos’ froze, enty?”
Mary jumped up out of the bed herself.
“Fo Gawd’s sake, Auntie, who had dat baby?”
“Gawd knows, gal, I found em in de corner behind de organ. ’E’s most freeze too—”
Mary took the child in her hands. The two women looked at each other. Both were perplexed. Whose child was this girl-child?
“May-e—you reckon you could-a had dis chile an’ didn’ know?” Maum Hannah suggested.
“Do, Auntie!” Mary laughed. “Now how could dat be?”
“Den who dat fetch em here? I been catchin’ chillen all dese years. I know I ain’ never caught one off de naked flo’ befo in my life. Who dat put em on de flo’? Must be somebody.”
“I know e ain’ me. No, Jedus. When I birth chillen, I know it. Mebbe you had em, Auntie.”
“Shut you mout’,
