how the old folks jumped and laughed and cried out threats with every small explosion. "Better mind! Santy Claw ain' gwine fetch you a Gawd's "ting if you don' stop you crazy doins."
Every gust of wind fanned out sparks from the flames and a smell of oak smoke that was flavored with powder from fire-crackers or from the occasional Roman candles and skyrockets that flared clear up among the stars.
From Mary's doorway she could see a ring of people, men and women, children, all ages, all sizes, holding hands to make a big ring, moving round and round the big fire, singing as they circled, and keeping step to the song while a blindfolded girl outside the ring sang answers to their questions:
"Aun' Katie dead?" the chorus chimed.
"Yes, ma'am," came a girl's voice in answer.
"Is you been to de buryin?" chimed again.
"Yes, ma'am," fell promptly, clearly.
"Did you git some cake?"
The circle stepped faster.
"Yes, ma'am," keeping quickened time.
"Did you git some coffee?" faster still.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Did you git some tea?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Den, shoo, ducky, shoo, don't come by me!"
