"Ma ain' slept none, not since Friday night," Ben said. "An' I—I ain' slept none neither. All 'cause dem devil deacons is a bunch o fools—dey ain' nuttin but a lot o dirty—low-down"
"If you don' shut you mout', I gwine to leave you. I come all de way out here to make some nice pleasant talk an' cheer you up an' all, but I see you ain' gwine to listen to me. I got too much to do yonder home to waste my good time a-wranglin wid a crazy man like you. I'm done weary a-listenin at blaspheme. Sometimes Gawd strikes people dead for blaspheme. If death was to hit you now, Budda, an' catch you wid dat turrible talk in you mout', Jedus! You'd go as straight to Hell as a martin to his gourd. You must be forgot how awful Hell is. I'm glad de deacons got dat picture o Satan an' all down below a-comin here next Friday night, so you can see good how bad Hell is."
Ben's being turned out of the church was not anything new, but for him to take it so hard certainly was. He had never been so upset before. He was more upset than he ought to be, as many times as he had experienced falling from grace. He must be worried because the picture that was going to be shown Friday night at the church was a picture of Hell, real Hell, just as it was in truth. Mary had not gone to church
