"Chillun, chillun, they ain' no Gawd, they ain' no sin nor no jedgment,
they's jes' springtime an' happy days, and folks carryin' on. Whar's
yo' lil gal, Abe Johnson? Whar's yo' lil sweet-heart gal?" An' me on'y
got religion wintah befo', peekin' roun' pie-eyed, skeered good. En fo'
you could say "De Lawd's my Shepherd," kerchunk goes de Black Man in de
mud-puddle, change' into a big green bullfrog!

MRS. BEELER.

You just imagined all that.

UNCLE ABE.

_Indignant._

Jes' 'magine! Don' I know de Devil when I sees him, near 'nough to say
"Howdy"?

MRS. BEELER.

There isn't any Devil.

UNCLE ABE.

_Astounded._

Ain't no Devil?

MRS. BEELER.

No.

_Uncle Abe goes, with puzzled headshakings, towards the kitchen
door. He stops to smell the Easter lilies, then raises his head and
looks at her again, with puzzled scrutiny._

UNCLE ABE.

Mis' Beelah, did I understan' you to say--they ain'--no Devil?

MRS. BEELER.

_Touching her breast._

Only here, Uncle Abe.

_The old negro stares at her and Rhoda, and goes into the kitchen,
feeling his own breast and shaking his head dubiously. Mrs. Beeler
looks at the picture._

Do you think your Uncle Mat would mind if we took that picture down?

_Rhoda unpins the picture from the wall, rolls it up, and lays it
on the bookshelf. Her aunt goes on, hesitatingly._

Do you know, Rhoda, I have sometimes thought--You won't be hurt?

RHODA.

No.

MRS. BEELER.

I--I know what that old negro says is all foolishness, but--there _is_
something the matter with Mr. Michaelis. Have you noticed?

RHODA.

_Avoiding her aunt's gaze._

Yes.

MRS. BEELER.

Just when his great work is about to begin!--What do you think it can
be?

RHODA.

How should I know, Aunt Mary?

MRS. BEELER.

I thought maybe--Rhoda, I have seen him look at you so strangely!
Like--like the Pilgrim in the picture, when he hears that heathen
creature playing on the pipe.--You are such a wild creature, or you
used to be.

_Rhoda comes to her aunt and stands a moment in silence._

RHODA.

Auntie.

MRS. BEELER.

Yes?

RHODA.

I think I ought to go away.

MRS. BEELER.

_Astonished._

Go away? Why?

RHODA.

So as not to--hinder him.

MRS. BEELER.

_Caressing her._

There, you have taken what I said too seriously. It was only a sick
woman's imagination.

RHODA.

No, it was the truth. You see it, thoug