Mary became serious. "I'm sorry, Auntie, I ain' gwine joke 'bout em no more. I was just a-talkin fool tryin to make Budda laugh. E was lookin so awful doleful."
Maum Hannah shook her head sadly. "Budda ought to look doleful. E don' need to laugh. E needs to pray an' ask God to give em long patience, den e wouldn' be so quick to get vexed an' cuss. Short patience'll make anybody have sin. But, gal, if I was wicked as you an' as sho fo Hell as you is, I wouldn' stop prayin day or night. Not me."
This stern talk hurt, for Mary loved Maum Hannah dearly and liked to win her praise.
"You is too hard on me, Auntie. You makes me feel awful down-hearted."
"Honey," Maum Hannah changed to a gentle tone, "I don' aim to talk hard at you, but when I look at you so, I feel dat sorry fo you I could cry."
"Sorry for me, Auntie? How-come so? I'm heavy fo-true, but I'm well. I don' mean to brag, but birthin a baby ain' no trouble to me. It don' even gi me a backache. My chillen has plenty to eat an' wear; Budda cuts wood to keep my fire goin day an' night. Why be sorry fo me?"
"Honey, sinners is all pitiful. As nigh as you is to gwinen down, you ought to be prayin
