"Hole on, Sis' Phyllis," Zeek ran and caught her by the arm, "hole on, Sist'r,--you ain' mad sho' nuf, is yer?" "Tu'n me loose, Zeekiel," she demanded furiously. Instead, he caught the other arm also. "I ain' gwine let yer go mad like yer is," then consiliatingly, "yer knows dem gyart'rs snakes can't bite nobody--I jes' wanter see yer dance er lit'le," and again he laughed, as the picture presented itself. "I gwine call Miss Lucy, ef yer doan take yer han's off'n me," stolidly demanded Phyllis. "All right," he said holding on as tightly as ever, "I jes' want yer ter wait hyah tell I goes down ter de orchard an' gets yer er hat full er dem big peaches." This argument lessened the rigidity of her face. "Dey's de fines' thing ter swage mis'ry er de speeret yer ev'r seed." She allowed him to shove her gently to the ground under the lilac bushes. "Hyah, set right hyah tell I comes back." Seeing the old woman partly restored to good humor, he slammed the garden gate behind him and went down the path, singing. "Come on, Mammy, less us get my lit'le green snakes Unk Zeek brought me," Willis started back to the garden. "Come back hyah, boy," as she caught him by the skirt of his blouse, "dem snakes wusn't brung hyah fur you, Zeek jes' makin' er 'cat's paw' er you. He 'ceivin' you jes' like Mist'r Rattlesnake done Miss Eve." "No, he ain't, Unk Zeek loves me," defended the boy. "Dat's jes' whut Miss Eve think whin de sarpint temp' her." "What's er sarpint?" He still pulled against her. "Er sarpint is er snake, honey--dat's jes' his scriptur' name--come on an' set in Mammy's lap an' she'll tell yer 'bout how ole Mist'r Rattlesnake fix hisse'f up so fine, way back yonder time, an' come struttin' roun' Miss Eve. He nuv'r come crawlin' like snakes does dese days neeth'r, nor, suh, he come walkin' plum on de een' er his tail; an' he look s' fine an' starchy dat--" "Didn't he have to hop?" Willis scrambled into her lap. "Nor, de Lawd fix hit so he doan hatt'r hop. I'm tellin' 'zackly de trufe,--he come walkin' on de een' er his tail," she insisted, "an he look s' fine an' gran', like some er de fine men folks, dat Miss Eve cudn't see how black wid sin he wus." "You are not black with sin," and he pulled the wrinkled face to him and kissed it. "Bless my baby," looking into his face as she hugged him, "dis hyah black on Mammy's face is nig'r black," she squeezed him again, "but sin black, like Mr. Rattlesnake got, stays in fokeses hearts whar hits hard ter see, whin hit's kiv'r'd up wid fine man'rs an' er slick tongue.