All the people surged forward to kiss the bride and the groom; to wish them joy, a gal and a boy; to hope they would live together like Isaac and Rebecca. The fine earrings bobbed about in Mary’s ears and the wreath of white flowers on her head had to be straightened now and then when so much kissing pushed it out of place.
When Brer Dee took his place beside a long table under the hackberry tree at the side of the house and began bawling in a high-keyed voice, “Come on up, brudders an’ sisters! Put you presents on de table, so you can get you cake an’ wine. Don’ stand back,” Maum Hannah smiled kindly and encouraged him.
“Hurry em up, son, tell em plenty o cake an’ wine is a-waitin for em right inside my house.”
The presents were brought up one by one, and each was held up and announced by Brer Dee until the table was brimming full, then everybody came forward and crowded around to look at the presents while the old tree scattered its bright yellow leaves among the plates and cups and saucers, the pots and pans, water glasses, forks and spoons; no knives, for knives are bad-luck things. Pieces of money were heaped up in the middle, and chickens tied firmly by the feet lay patiently under the table, dozing or blinking bright eyes at everything.
“Now, all o yunnuh git you cake an’ wine!” Brer Dee shouted the announcement so everyone could hear, then drew a fine red handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his head.
The soft warm wind hummed a low tune, then blew a thin cloud over the sun, darkening the faces of the people but it passed quickly aside, making the day seem brighter than ever.
Before sundown, Mary was weary. She had kissed everybody there and answered every greeting with some pleasant word. Her feet, unaccustomed to shoes, had begun to ache, but the crowd was thinning out. Most of the people were going down the street to Foolishness, a leaning old house where the sinners had their dances. The big drum was beating and calling everybody to come on to a dance and hot supper which Cinder was having there.
July loved to dance and pleasure himself, and even on his wedding-day he hated to miss any fun. Mary felt she ought to go with him. This was no time to be thinking of hurting feet or weariness. She was a church member and she could not dance, but she could eat rice and hash and drink some of the sweetened water.
“Goodbye, Auntie; goodbye, Budda Ben.” Mary kissed and hugged them both, but Maum Hannah shook a warning finger. “Mind, honey, don’ forget an’ shake you foot tonight. Foolishness ain’ no place for a child o God. I’m sorry to see you gwine in de company of all dem sinners. Yunnuh ought to go straight on home.”
July’s face fell for a second, then he quickly smiled again and answered blithely, “We ain’ gwine to stay wid de sinners long, Auntie. I’s gwine to take my wife home early dis night.”
V
Night had fallen; trees, houses, roads, fields were all melted into one darkness with a clear starlit sky far above them. The house where sinners went for pleasure was flooded with blood-red light from the great fire in the front yard. The place seethed with life, for crowds of people were weaving back and forth from the yard where great pots full of victuals were cooking, to the room where the dance was going on. Some of them were singing, some clapping their hands as they marked time to the tune which one lone fiddle squeaked out gaily to the booming beat of the big bass drum. The dance room was packed full, the door jammed with onlookers. “Hop light, ladies, take a drink o’ wine,” came a high shrill chant from many treble voices, so loud that the dim kerosene lamplight flickered.
“Hop light, ladies, whilst de stars duh shine,” answered the men’s deeper notes. July sang too as he pushed his way into the room, but Mary was a member of the church and she stayed silent. The drumsticks clattered, the fiddle squeaked, Cinder’s eyes glittered bright.
Every corner was packed-tight and the walls were lined with onlookers, but a place was quickly made for the bride and groom. Cinder came up and murmured something to July who smiled brightly at her, then said to Mary, “I’ll be right back, honey, as soon as I lead off dis set wid Cinder. You wait here till I come.”
Mary was surprised, but she tried to smile as July settled his hat more firmly on his head, stepped out into the middle of the floor and stamped so sharply that the board under him shook with the blow; then, clicking his heels together, he seized Cinder in his arms and whirled her round and round. The dancers joined them, but Mary looked away out of the window. Outside in the yard where the great fire gave plenty of light the people were laughing, talking, running on with much gay banter as they bought Cinder’s rice and hog meat, her store-bought white bread soaked in brown liver-hash, the sweetened water, and hot toddy made of molasses and white corn liquor. They were celebrating Mary’s wedding by buying Cinder’s food. Cinder would get rich tonight with so many hungry guests.
Instead of leading the dance off and then stepping right back to stand beside Mary, July danced on. He must have forgotten what he was doing for he wheeled and glided back and forth; Cinder’s skirts whirled swiftly about his feet as he whisked her on through the figure, swaying, swinging, turning, now and then pausing to beat the floor with a heel. Once, he spun her so fast, Cinder stopped and cried out, she was pure dizzy, but she clung to July, and her small eyes
