the basket on the safe, began mixing a sweetened bread. She put it into the three-legged oven on the hearth to bake, then she took the empty eggshells and strung them and hung them up be side the chimney in the place of the old ones which she threw into the fire.
"You time is out," she told the old shells. "But you done you work good. De hens is a-layin fine. I'm much obliged to you." She stood watching the bread rise and brown, and her eyes fell on her love-charm lying on the mantel. She had never worn it although Daddy Cudjoe had made it strong so that it could not fail. Good old Daddy Cudjoe. He was a kind old man even if he did work black magic.
The red rooster would not stop crowing. Somebody was coming. Sure enough, yonder was June, dressed in his best clothes, coming on the path across the field. When he came in Mary saw that his face was as long and solemn as Brer Dee's.
"What de matter all you, June?" she asked. "How-come you look so mournful?"
"I is mournful."
"How-come you is all dressed up in you Sunday clothes an' it in de middle of de week?"
He sat down on the steps in the sunshine and, taking out his plug of tobacco, cut himself a
