"No you won't! no you won't! no you won't!" exclaimed Aunt Charity. "I mought 'a' done diffunt, an' I mought 'a' done wrong. We'll hatter git out'n de church, ef you kin call it a church, but dat ain't so mighty hard ter do. Yit, 'fo' we does git out I'm gwine ter preach ol' Jerry's funer'l one time--des one time. Dat what make me laugh des now; I was runnin' over in my min' how I kin raise his hide. Some folks got de idee dat kaze I'm fat I'm bleeze ter be long-sufferin'; but you know better'n dat, don't you?" "Well, I know dis," said Uncle Plato, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "when you git yo' dander up you kin talk loud an' long." "Miss Sa'ah done tol' me dat when I git mad, I kin keep up a conversation ez long ez de nex' one," remarked Aunt Charity, with real pride. "An' den dar's dat hat Miss Sa'ah gi' me; I laid off ter w'ar it ter church nex' Sunday, but now--well, I speck I better des w'ar my head-hankcher, kaze dey's sho gwine ter be trouble ef any un um look at me cross-eyed." "You gwine, is you?" Uncle Plato asked. "Ef I live," replied Aunt Charity, "I'm des ez good ez dar right now. An' mo' dan dat, you'll go too. 'Tain't gwineter be said dat de Clopton niggers hung der heads bekaze dey stood by der own white folks. Ef it's said, it'll hatter be said 'bout some er de yuthers." "I'll go," said Uncle Plato, "but I hope I won't hatter frail Br'er Jerry out." "Now, dat's right whar we gits crossways," Aunt Charity declared. "I hope you'll hatter frail 'im out." Fortunately, Uncle Plato had no excuse for using his walking-cane on the Rev. Jeremiah, when Sunday came. None of the church-members made any active show of animosity. They simply held themselves aloof. Aunt Charity had her innings, however. When services were over, and the congregation was slowly filing out of the building, followed by the Rev. Jeremiah, she remarked loud enough for all to hear her: "Br'er Jerry, de nex' time you want me ter cook pullets fer dat ar Lizzie Gaither, des fetch um 'long. I'll be glad ter 'blige you." As the Rev. Jeremiah's wife was close at hand, the closing scenes can be better imagined than described. In this chronicle the veil of silence must be thrown over them.