Therefore, after receiving his eggs, he opened hostilities by remarking, in a general way, that he had attended the Doctor's preaching on Sunday, and that there was quite a crowded house. Candace immediately began mentally to bristle her feathers like a hen who sees a hawk in the distance, and responded with decision:-- "Den you _heard_ sometin', for once in your life!" "I must say," said Digo, with suavity, "dat I can't give my 'proval to such sentiments." "More shame for you," said Candace, grimly. "_You_ a man, and not stan' by your color, and flunk under to mean white ways! Ef you was _half_ a man, your heart would 'a' bounded like a cannon-ball at dat ar' sermon." "Dr. Stiles and me we talked it over after church," said Digo,--"and de Doctor was of my 'pinion, dat Providence didn't intend"---- "Oh, you go long wid your Providence! Guess, ef white folks had let us alone, Providence wouldn't trouble us." "Well," said Digo, "Dr. Stiles is clear dat dis yer's a-fulfillin' de prophecies and bringin' in de fulness of de Gentiles." "Fulness of de fiddlesticks!" said Candace, irreverently. "Now what a way dat ar' is of talkin'! Go look at one o' dem ships we come over in,--sweatin' and groanin',--in de dark and dirt,--cryin' and dyin',--howlin' for breath till de sweat run off us,--livin' and dead chained together,--prayin' like de rich man in hell for a drop o' water to cool our tongues! Call dat ar' a-bringin' de fulness of de Gentiles, do ye? Ugh!" And Candace ended with a guttural howl, and stood frowning and gloomy over the top of her long kitchen-shovel, like a black Bellona leaning on her spear of battle. Digo recoiled a little, but stood too well in his own esteem to give up; so he shifted his attack. "Well, for my part, I must say I never was 'clined to your Doctor's 'pinions. Why, now, Dr. Stiles says, notin' couldn't be more absurd dan what he says 'bout disinterested benevolence. _My_ Doctor says, dere a'n't no such ting!" "I should tink it's likely!" said Candace, drawing herself up with superb disdain. "_Our_ Doctor knows dere _is_,--and why? 'cause he's got it IN HERE," said she, giving her ample chest a knock which resounded like the boom from a barrel. "Candace," said Cato, gently, "you's gittin' too hot." "Cato, you shut up!" said Candace, turning sharp round. "What did I make you dat ar' flip for, 'cept you was so hoarse you oughtn' for to say a word? Pootty business, you go to agitatin' _your_self wid dese yer! Ef you wear out your poor old throat talkin', you may get de 'sumption; and den what'd become o' me?" Cato, thus lovingly pitched _hors-de-combat_, sipped the sweetened cup in quietness of soul, while Candace returned to the charge.