“I beg everybody’s pardon for my rude interruption. But it’s deadly
boresome to hear your own funeral encomium, don’t you think?”
“I judge from the general tenor of Mr. Rouke’s remarks that anything
you do is perfectly all right,” Gaitskill laughed. Then he asked:
“Where have you been stopping while in Tickfall, Miss Cordona?”
“I suppose the sheriff will put me under arrest,” she answered with a
throaty, chuckling laugh, “but I have been a cook in Mr. Flournoy’s
home in the last five days. In the South a black face indicates a
nigger, and I knew that my only door of entrance to a white man’s home
was through the kitchen.”
“Oh, Lord,” Flournoy mourned, “I’ve lost the best cook in the whole
world! Tom, I was going to invite you out for a meal to show her
off----”
He was interrupted by the voice of a man sobbing. The cry seemed to
rack and tear the throat as if Pain had picked up the heart in red hot
pincers holding the quivering flesh until it dropped the thick, black
blood of agony.
They turned and saw Skeeter Butts slip out of the door of the little
theater.
He had followed Lalla Cordona down the street, had entered the little
theater unobserved, and had heard enough to know that all the blossoms
of love in his heart had fruited into Dead Sea apples filled with ash
and soot.
“Gawd!” he sighed pitifully, as he dragged his leaden feet toward the
Hen-Scratch saloon, “I wish I wus a white man ’stead of a coon!”
D.D.
“It cain’t be did, niggers,” Skeeter Butts announced in a tone of
finality, as he lighted a new cigarette on the stub of the old one.
“Dis here chu’ch is a busted onfinancial institootion.”
He leaned his hide-bottomed chair against the trunk of the chinaberry
tree in the churchyard, tipped his derby hat forward until the brim
was level with his eyes, and surveyed with disgust that dilapidated
structure known as the Shoofly church.
“’Twon’t cost much,” the Rev. Vinegar Atts protested earnestly. “Dis
chu’ch is been needin’ dem improvements fer a long time.”
“’Tain’t so,” Hitch Diamond growled. “You don’t need no ’lectric
readin’ lamp to sot on yo’ pulpit. You kin read by de light over yo’
head.”
“You ain’t needin’ no fancy pulpit chair to sot on, either,” Skeeter
Butts remarked.
“De springs is all busted outen de bottom of de one I’m got,” Vinegar
complained. “When I sot down I feels like I’m settin’ in a bushel
basket. My stomick is over on my knees an’ my foots is mighty nigh up
to my chin. De price ain’t so powerful high--twenty dollars fer de
settee an’ five fer de readin’ lamp. Dat don’t seem much to me.”
“Us’ll git you dem fancy decoorshuns fer Christmus, Brudder Atts,”
Skeeter smiled. “Dis here is August----”
He stopped suddenly and peered down the road with great interest. A
slim, black negro, dressy and citified, was picking his way along the
dusty road toward the Shoofly church.
The three men adjusted their chairs so they could watch him as he came
up the little hill. They noticed that he gazed down at the deep sand
through gold-rimmed spectacles, that he picked places in the road which
would not bury his shiny patent-leather shoes, that he exercised great
care to protect his linen suit from flying particles of dust, and he
carried a near-gold wrist-watch which he consulted frequently, as if he
were bound to get up that hill on schedule time.
“I knows him,” Skeeter Butts whispered. “I met his ’quaintance at de
deppo dis mawnin’. He blowed in wid a long-whisker white man whut is
visitin’ de Revun Sentelle. Dis here new coon is callin’ hisse’f Green
Trapps.”
Green sighed with relief when he reached the gate of the churchyard,
and came across the lawn toward the three men with an ingratiating
grin. Vinegar Atts kicked the chair on which his feet were resting
toward the newcomer as an invitation to be seated.
“Mawnin’, Greenie,” Skeeter Butts greeted. “Us is been expectin’ you to
look up some of yo’ own kin an’ color.”
He introduced Green to Vinegar and Hitch, passed him the cigarettes,
and then waited for Green to open the conversation.
“You niggers ain’t pregaged in no bizziness discussion, I hopes,” Green
remarked. “I don’t hanker to butt in.”
“’Tain’t no secret bizzness,” Skeeter replied. “Dis here Revun Atts
craves a readin’ lamp an’ a pulpit chair fer his chu’ch, an’ us members
don’t aspire to git him none.”
Thereupon for the enlightenment of Green Trapps, the three men repeated
all the conversation and arguments which had occupied them for an hour
before Green arrived. At the conclusion of the talk-fest, Skeeter Butts
demanded:
“What does you think about it, Greenie?”
“I agrees wid you-all,” Green said promptly. “Vinegar needs dem great
improvements, an’ de Shoofly cain’t affode to git ’em. Therefo’ you-all
oughter turn yo’ minds to somepin mo’ important.”
He took off his gold spectacles, polished them carefully with a big
silk handkerchief, then rubbed the shining face of his wrist-watch and
finally flicked the corner of his handkerchief over his shiny shoes.
“I don’t know nothin’ more important,” Vinegar Atts grumbled in
manifest disappointment.
“As de revun pastor of de Shoofly is you got a D.D. degree?” Green
asked blandly.
“Got a--which?” Vinegar asked, showing the whites of his eyes.
“Is you ever took on a kawlidge-gate degree?” Green repeated.
“I done tuck ten degrees in de Nights of Darkness Lodge,” Vinegar
replied. “I don’t need no mo’. De las’ one I tuck dey made me ballunce
a raw egg on my bald head an’ a nigger hit it wid a paddle--ruint all
my nice lodge clothes.”
“Aw, shuckins! I don’t mean dat,” Green snorted in disgust. “Ain’t you
no Doctor of Dervinity? Don’t de white folks call you de Revun Dr.
Vinegar Atts? Ain’t you no scholard like de Revun Dr. Sentelle an’ dem
yuther white preachers?”
“Naw, suh,” Vinegar said regretfully. “Dis here pig ain’t got no curl
to his tail like you mentions.”
“You had oughter git you a D.D.,” Green said with conviction.
“De Elder needs a couple of D’s,” Hitch Diamond rumbled, delighted with
the idea.
“De Revun Dr. Vinegar Atts, D.D. of Dervinity, pasture of de Shoofly
Mefdis Chu’ch, Tickfall, Loozanny,” Skeeter Butts vocalized, mouthing
the words pompously. “Gosh! I’d gib a dollar to see de Elder dolled up
like dat!”
“It’ll cost fifty dollars,” Green said quietly, looking at his
wrist-watch as if he feared to miss an engagement. “I kin git one fer
you fer dat many money.”
Vinegar’s face was glowing like a saint who had seen a heavenly vision.
“How come you is peddlin’ dem D.D.’s aroun’?” he asked.
“I travels wid de Revun Dr. Gilbo, pres’dent of de Silliway Female
Institoot,” Green said easily. “Us come to town dis mawnin’ to
intervoo some rich folks in dis town. Us don’t never run atter nobody’s
money, but we makes it a p’int to go whar money is at, an’ we is
powerful kind an’ high perlite to de fellers whut is got money.”
“Dat’s right,” Vinegar applauded.
“Now dis here Dr. Gilbo, he told me ef I could sell a couple of D.D.’s
on dis trip to a couple deservin’ nigger peachers, he wouldn’t hab no
objections. I got de papers wid me now.”
He reached into his breast pocket and brought forth a crackling sheet
of parchment. The three Tickfall negroes had never seen a college
diploma. Had they been able to read this one they might have been
enlightened; but unfortunately for them it was written in Latin. Its
mystery conferred upon it a vast importance.
Green Trapps indicated a blank space with his finger.
“All I’m got to do is to write yo’ name right dar, Revun,” he said.
“Atter dat I collecks my money, passes dis here obscribe over to you,
an’ de D.D. is did.”
“Sounds easy,” Vinegar said, his face aglow.
“Of co’se, niggers, dis here is white folks’ bizzness an’ us is got to
speak it easy,” Green said as he rolled his parchment and replaced it
in his coat pocket. “Dar ain’t many white kawlidges in dis worl’ whut
D.D.’s niggers.”
He looked at his wrist-watch and rose to his feet.
“De Revun Dr. Gilbo takes two pills an’ a charcoal tablet at ’leben
o’clock, niggers,” he announced. “I got to go wait on him.”
“Hol’ on, Greenie,” Hitch Diamond rumbled. “Ef we wus ter be of a mind
to bestow a D.D. on Vinegar, how soon could us git de goods?”
“Colleck yo’ money up by to-night, an’ us will bestow de paper befo’
de Shoofly cong’gation tomorrer night,” Green suggested as he turned
and walked away from the conference.
When Green had gone the three sat for a long time in perfect silence.
Vinegar was longing and hoping for that little scrap of parchment,
wondering how he could attain it. Skeeter was wishing in an indifferent
way that Vinegar had an honorary degree, but he was determining in his
own mind that he would purchase a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles just
like Green’s. At last Hitch Diamond spoke:
“Listen to dis idear, niggers: de Nights of Darkness Lodge meets
to-night. I favors axin’ all de members of de lodge to cont’ibute a few
change to make up de fifty dollars an’ buy Vinegar Atts a couple of
D’s.”
“Dat’s de trick, Hitchie,” Skeeter shouted. “Of co’se, de lodge is
secret work an’ de white folks won’t know nothin’ about it. Dat comes
up to de rules dat Green laid down.”
“I think dat’s a good notion,” Hitch mumbled.
“I favors it,” Skeeter agreed.
“Amen,” said Vinegar Atts.
* * * * *
The session of the Nights of Darkness Lodge proceeded quietly until the
question was asked: “Is there any new business?”
Thereupon Hitch Diamond, the grand exalted ruler, rose to his feet,
cleared his throat, and spoke:
“Brudders, us cullud folks of Tickfall an’ especial de members of
dis lodge b’lieves in showin’ high an’ exalted salutes to people whut
deserves it. I rises to pernounce dat de time is now come to show a
pertickler favor to our feller brudder member, Revun Vinegar Atts.”
Vinegar arose, bowed, and sat down.
“De high exalted chaplain of dis lodge ain’t as high as he might git,
an’ I aims to ax you-alls to put him whar he b’longs. We wants a
preacher we kin be proud of, an’ Vinegar Atts needs a couple of D.’s to
finish him off complete. I moves dat we chip in an’ buy ’em fer him.”
“Thank ’e, suh,” Vinegar arose and said, and sat down.
Hitch’s speech was not as enlightening as it should have been, and it
was met with complete silence. Each member was trying to think out what
Hitch meant. After a while Skeeter Butts remarked:
“I favors buyin’ a D.D. fer Vinegar, an’ I now cont’ibutes one dollars
to dat puppus.”
Skeeter walked over to the altar in the middle of the lodge floor and
dropped a resounding dollar upon the top. The negroes looked at the
dollar with great curiosity, but they needed more light before they
were willing to add any money to that contribution. After another
silence, Figger Bush asked:
“Whut is dat one silver dollar fer, Skeeter?”
“To he’p buy a D.D.,” Skeeter informed him.
“Whut am a D.D.?” Bush inquired.
“It’s a--a--a kawlidge piece of paper wid writin’ on it,” Skeeter
explained lamely.
“How much do she cost?” Bush persisted.
“Fifty dollars,” Skeeter told him.
A murmur of protest ran around the room. No one had the remotest
idea what Skeeter was talking about, but they could all grasp the
significance of fifty dollars. It was apparent that they would not
favor buying anything for Vinegar Atts which cost that much money.
“I don’t ketch on to dis here foolishness,” Figger complained. “I
don’t gib none of my money fer somepin I ain’t understood in my mind.
I motions dat Vinegar Atts git up an’ tell us whut he wants us to git
him.”
“Dar is a white man in town whut wants to make me a preachin’ doctor,”
Vinegar explained. “De license cost fifty dollars an’ some of my
frien’s an’ lodge brudders wants me to git it.”
“Whut does you aim to doctor--hosses?” Figger asked.
“Naw, suh, ’tain’t no medicine doctor; it’s a preachin’ doctor I wants
to be, like Dr. Sentelle.”
“Huh!” Figger grunted and sank down into his seat. The mystery was too
great for his feeble mind.
At that moment there was a loud knocking at the door. Then the outer
guard reported:
“A stranger is outside--he ain’t got no grip or password--wants to git
inside.”
“Whut mought his name be?” Hitch inquired.
“Green Trapps.”
Hitch received this announcement with joy, for now he had some one who
could explain the mystery.
“De lodge will be at rest,” he announced. “Outer guard, admit Perfessor
Green Trapps.”
The lodge stood up and viewed this citified negro as he walked slowly
up the hall under the escort of the guard. His appearance was pleasing,
and they gave him the lodge salute when he was introduced, and sat down
to look at him some more.
“You is come jes’ in time, Perfessor,” Hitch Diamond bellowed. “Us is
got our D.D. program in a jam, an’ we wants you to tell it to us agin,
so our minds kin git clear.”
“’Tain’t hard to understan’, brudders,” Green Trapps began, as he
surveyed the assembly through his gold-rimmed spectacles, and smiled at
them benevolently. “De Silliway Female Institoot is got two hon’able
degrees to bestow on two deservin’ preachers of de cullud race, an’ de
Revun Vinegar Atts is ’lected to git one. De female institoot will make
him a doctor fer fifty dollars.”
“We don’t want Vinegar made no female doctor!” Figger Bush squeaked.
“We don’t make him no female doctor,” Green explained patiently. “We
makes him a D.D.--a Doctor of Dervinity.”
“Is you one of dem things you mentions?” Pap Curtain, a tall, yellow
negro, asked in a snarling voice.
“Naw, suh, I ain’t no preacher. I’s wid a kawlidge. Therefo’ I’s a D.V.”
“Is dar any more D.D.’s in dis town?” Pap asked.
“Dar ain’t but one an’ he’s white,” Green replied.
“His name is Revun Dr. Sentelle, D.D.”
“Dar now!” Pap Curtain exclaimed exultantly. “I think I ketch on. Dis
here female kawlidge wants to fix Vinegar up like Revun Sentelle--make
him sound dis way: De Revun Dr. Vinegar Atts, D.D. Is dat de notion?”
“Yes, suh,” Green grinned. “Dat’s a bird’s-eye view!”
Pap ran his hand into his capacious pocket and brought forth a silver
dollar. He dropped it with a loud thump beside Skeeter’s money on the
altar.
“I favors it, nigger. Less gib Vinegar all de frills!”
Hitch Diamond hastened to contribute his dollar, and Vinegar Atts
followed him with two dollars.
“I’s willing’ to pay mo’ dan anybody fer whut I gits fer myse’f,” he
announced happily.
Figger Bush walked forward and laid down fifty cents.
“I ain’t no scholard, brudders,” he said apologetically. “I don’t see
more’n four bits wuth of good dat I’ll git outen dem D’s.”
One by one the members of the lodge advanced and contributed their
bit to this honorary degree to be bestowed upon their chaplain. But
silver dollars were scarce in the crowd, and fifty-cent pieces were
soon exhausted and two-bit contributions were scanty and then dimes and
nickels made up the rest of the pile.
“Ef eve’ybody is done his do, de inner guard will please count de
remains,” Hitch announced.
Figger Bush advanced and separated the silver in neat little piles. A
minute later he announced the result:
“Twenty-five dollars!”
The lodge received this statement in gloomy silence. Green Trapps sat
down, took the college diploma out of his pocket and unrolled it. The
sight of that precious document almost brought the tears to Vinegar’s
eyes.
It was a long time before a suggestion was offered, but finally Pap
Curtain spoke:
“Brudders, I’s powerful sorry dat we couldn’t make de riffle an’ fix
Vinegar up right. But dese here is hard times fer niggers an’ cash
money is scarce. But I rejoices dat we is raised as much as we has. Now
I makes dis motion: Vinegar is been bawlin’ fer a readin’ lamp an’ a
pulpit settee fer a long time. Less take dis cash money an’ ease down
Vinegar’s feelin’s a little by buyin’ him de lamp an’ de settee.”
“Dat’s de notion,” a chorus of voices answered.
But Green Trapps, D.V., saw no reason why that money should be diverted
from its original purpose. He sprang to his feet, waving the college
diploma.
“I got a better notion dan dat, brudders,” he exclaimed earnestly. “I
figgers dat Vinegar wants dis here degree. Ain’t dat so, Revun?”
“Dat’s right,” Vinegar murmured.
“Ef dat’s de case, I makes you-all dis bizziness trade: de price of a
D.D. is fifty dollars. Dis lodge has raised jes’ half of dat money.
Therefo’ I moves you dat dis lodge bestow de Revun Vinegar Atts wid
jes’ one D!”
“Shore!” Figger Bush squeaked. “He oughter be satisfied wid one D.”
“How would dat suit you, Revun?” Hitch Diamond asked.
“Dat’ll suit fine,” Vinegar smiled, his eager eyes resting upon the
parchment in Green’s hand. “Ef I kin buy de doctor part of de double D,
I’s willin’ to let de Dervinity part of it slide.”
“Ever who favors bestowin’ de Revun Vinegar Atts wid one D say aye!”
Hitch Diamond howled.
“Aye!” the crowd bellowed.
“I thanks you-all fer yo’ int’rust,” Green Trapps announced quietly.
“We will bestow de Revun Vinegar Atts wid one D at de Shoofly chu’ch
tomorrer night.”
* * * * *
All day long Vinegar Atts occupied himself by decorating the Shoofly
church. He had festooned the building with arm-loads of long Spanish
moss taken from the trees in the swamp. He had brought a wagon-load of
ferns and palms and wild flowers from the fields and woods, and now as
the shadows of the evening lengthened in the large, barnlike structure,
he viewed the result with dissatisfaction.
“I needs dat settee an’ readin’ lamp to sot off dese here
decorooshuns,” he sighed, scratching his head in perplexity. “Atter I
git my D, I got to go an’ set down in a ole chair wid de bottom busted
out, an’ dat ain’t doin’ it up in de right sort of style.”
He walked up and surveyed the offending chair, turned it over and
looked underneath and uttered a disgusted grunt. He could make nothing
out of it except what it was, a broken, dilapidated chair. Then a great
idea entered his head.
“I bet de white folks is got plenty pulpit chairs an’ readin’ lamps
dat dey don’t need. I’ll go out an’ beg a few.”
Ten minutes later Vinegar paused at the gate before the home of the
Rev. Dr. Sentelle.
There were only two churches in Tickfall, one for the whites and one
for the blacks. For nearly thirty years neither church had had a change
of preachers, so that Dr. Sentelle and Vinegar Atts were old friends
and workers in the Tickfall vineyard.
Dr. Sentelle was a scholar, an orator, and a cripple. All that can be
comprised in the statement that the people, white and black, loved him
almost to adoration, will express what he was to Tickfall.
Vinegar Atts was a squatty, pot-bellied black giant with long
gorilla-like arms; he was bald except for a little tuft of hair over
each ear, which made him look like a moon-faced mule wearing a blind
bridle. He was not a scholar, nor a cripple. He could hang some steel
hooks in a five-hundred-pound bale of cotton and trot up the gangplank
of a steamboat singing a religious song and not start the perspiration
on the top of his bald head by the achievement.
As for oratory, his colored friends thought that Vinegar was the prince
of platform spellbinders. He had the pertinacious guinea-fowl’s gift
of gab, a voice which could be heard for two miles, and a _vox humana_
stop to his chest tones that threw in the tremolo for funeral and
evangelistic occasions and made his emotional auditors weep copiously
over something they did not know anything about.
Vinegar paused at the gate because a stranger was sitting on the porch
beside Dr. Sentelle. Vinegar “read sign” on this strange white man to
determine whether it would be worth while to go up and interrupt his
conversation by requesting a favor. The stranger was old, white-haired,
and his movements and the sound of his voice indicated that he was
feeble. Vinegar did not know it, but he was looking at the Rev. Dr.
Gilbo, president of the Silliway Female Institute.
“Dat white man is some sort broke-down preacher,” Vinegar soliloquized,
and he rattled the gate-latch loudly.
“All right, Vinegar, come in!” Dr. Sentelle called. “What do you want?”
“’Scuse me, white folks,” Vinegar murmured, bowing apologetically to
the stranger. “I come to ax Elder Sentelle could he he’p me outen a
jam.”
“Has the Shoofly outfit fired you?” Dr. Sentelle smiled.
“Naw, suh. Dey’s gwine bestow special honors on me to-night,” Vinegar
chuckled, smoothing his stovepipe hat with a big handkerchief. “I done
spent de day fixin’ up de chu’ch wid flowers, an’ now I needs two mo’
things to gimme style. Is you white folks got a pulpit chair an’ a
’lectric readin’ lamp dat you ain’t needin’?”
Dr. Sentelle appeared to give himself up to deep thought. In reality he
was devoting himself to an internal enjoyment of that amusing request.
Dr. Gilbo uttered a surprised chuckle which he promptly covered by a
cough and hastily offered Vinegar a cigar.
“What sort of honor is going to be bestowed on you, Vinegar?” Dr.
Sentelle asked.
“De Nights of Darkness Lodge is bought me a D,” Vinegar told him.
The white men remained silent, praying for more light. Vinegar busied
himself with his cigar, placing the gold band on his little finger and
lighting the smoke.
“That’s quite an honor,” Dr. Sentelle ventured, wondering what he was
talking about and hoping that Vinegar would say something to illumine
the darkness.
“Yes, suh. Dey comes pretty tol’able expensive an’ de lodge couldn’t
affode to buy but one,” Vinegar replied, and a little note of
disappointment was in his voice.
“That’s too bad,” Dr. Sentelle murmured sympathetically.
“De cost wus twenty-five dollars per each D,” Vinegar sighed. “Of co’se
dat’s most too high fer niggers to pay, even jes’ one. So I’s mighty
glad to git it.”
“Are you alluding to some lodge degree, my man?” Dr. Gilbo asked.
“Naw, suh, it’s a preacher degree. All de fust-class preachers has
’em. Of co’se, I would druther hab a D.D., but two of ’em costes fifty
dollars.”
With a gasp of astonishment the two men comprehended what Vinegar was
talking about.
“Oh, I understand,” Dr. Gilbo murmured. “You are receiving the honorary
degree of Doctor of Divinity to-night.”
“Yes, suh, dat’s it. Only but I don’t git but one D.”
“May I inquire what college is honoring you?” Gilbo asked.
Vinegar’s answer came very near being the end of Dr. Gilbo.
“De Silliway Female Institoot,” Vinegar told him.
Then there was silence for the space of ten minutes. Vinegar stood as
quietly as a mule hitched to a post. Dr. Sentelle’s frail body was
shaking with suppressed laughter. Dr. Gilbo felt that his reason was
tottering on the crystal throne of intellect. At last Vinegar spoke:
“Could you lend me de loant of de pulpit chair an’ de readin’ lamp,
elder?”
“No,” Dr. Sentelle murmured chokingly, “I deeply regret that I cannot.”
“Thank ’e, suh,” Vinegar responded. “I knows you would ef you could.
I reckin I better mosey on. I’s shore much obleeged to dis here nice
white man fer my seegar. Thank e, Kunnel.”
Vinegar turned and walked as far as the gate, when Sentelle called to
him.
“Vinegar, my friend and I would like to attend the meeting at the
Shoofly church to-night.”
Vinegar’s stovepipe hat swept the ground and his grotesque body was
distorted into an elaborate bow.
“My Lawd, white folks,” he howled in delight. “Dis pore ole nigger
won’t ax de good Lawd fer no better blessin’ dan to hab you-alls come
out to de Shoofly. I’ll hab a place on de flatforms fer bofe you-alls.
De orgies begins at nine o’clock.”
“That rascal, Green Trapps, is at the bottom of this,” Dr. Gilbo said
with conviction. “I am going out to the Shoofly church to-night, but
I don’t intend to arrive at the beginning of the exercises. I think I
shall appear at the psychological moment.”
“I’s wid you in dat plan, white folks,” Dr. Sentelle snickered.
* * * * *
It was never any trouble to get a crowd in the Shoofly church. All that
was necessary was to ring the bell and the colored population flocked
to the church like doves to the windows.
But on this occasion all the brothers of the lodge had hinted that
there would be a most important meeting on this particular night, the
grapevine telephone had carried the news, and the people began to
arrive from the swamps and plantations long before dark. Some of the
old women anxious to get a good seat, went trailing up to the church
just about sunset like a lot of old hens going to roost.
By nine o’clock there was not standing room in the church, nor a
fence-post or a tree around the building to which another horse or mule
could be hitched.