'sociate wif my baby here, I jes' tell you ter look out! I done made a spell on all er you Mill folks, on you white folks an' on all the black folks, an' the spell air a wuckin' an' it air wuckin' quick. I done got some er that there lil' brat's har what yo' stiff-backed sisters cut off'n her haid an' I got her tintype an' I done made a cha'm spell what air gonter bring sorrow an' de-struction on all er you-all, root an' branch. I done kep' that ol' fool Pearly Gates in the baid fer nigh on ter twenty years an' I ain't even begun yit on what I air a goin' ter do ter the whole bilin' er Taylors."
By this time Mam' Peachy was screaming in high shrill tones and had begun to jump up and down in a kind of frenzy. Philip and Rebecca heard, even up in the attic, and Philip came hurriedly down, Rebecca following more slowly.
"What is all this?" he demanded sternly. "Old Abe, take your mother to her room."
"An' who are you ter be a givin' orders in my house?" demanded Rolfe Bolling with drunken bluster.
"I am your son," said Philip sadly. "I will take you to your room, Father." He caught hold of his father's arm and led him off.
Rolfe Bolling did not resist but meekly allowed himself to be taken to his room and put to bed,
