that marked the heavy rolling thunder. Mary wanted to say many things but she remembered Maum Hannah's training; when the thunder rolls, people must sit down quiet and listen while Up-Yonder, the Great I Am, the Maker of all things, talks.
Instead of helping himself out of the pots, July fixed himself a cup of sweetened water and swallowed it down, thirstily.
Mary could keep silent no longer even if the clouds were shouting.
"What de matter all you, July? How-come you don' eat some possum?"
"I got de headache. I ain' hungry."
"How-come you got de headache?"
"I dunno, lessen so much sun-hot to-day done it."
That was a poor excuse. Sun-hot could not make July's head ache when shade covered the whole swamp where he worked. Sun-hot does not make people sick. July must have headache for some other reason. His eyes looked like corn-liquor eyes.
"Come lay down on de bed. Le me put a wet rag on you head, July. Dat'll make you feel more better. When de rain stops I'll get a collard leaf an' tie on em. Dat'll make you well."
Men are like children when things go wrong.
