iendly reesons
stirred into it wid brown sugar. I 'clare, when I looks back, I sho'
is ashamed to know dat dey was ever sech a po' weddin'-cake in my
family--I sho' is. Now you know, missy, of co'se, dese heah
broom--weddin's dey ain't writ down in nuther co't-house nur chu'ch
books--an' so ef any o' dese heah smarty meddlers was to try to bring
up ole sco'es an' say dat Sister Sophy-Sophia wasn't legally married,
dey wouldn't be no witnesses _but me an' de broom_, an' I'd have to
witness _for it_, an'--an' _I_ wouldn't be no legal witness."

"Why wouldn't you be a legal witness, Tamar?"

"'_Caze I got de same man_--an' dat's de suspiciouses' thing dey kin
bring up ag'ins' a witness--so dey tell me. Ef 'twarn't for dat, I'd
'a' had her fun'al preached las' month."

"But even supposing the matter had been stirred up--and you had been
unable to prove that everything was as you wished--wouldn't your
minister have preached a funeral sermon anyway?"

"Oh yas, 'm, cert'n'y. On'y de fun'al he'd preach wouldn't help her to
rest in her grave--dat's de on'ies' diffe'ence. Like as not dey'd git
ole Brother Philemon Peters down f'om de bottom-lands to preach
wrath--an' I wants grace preached at Sister Sophy-Sophia's fun'al, even
ef I has to wait ten years for it. She died in pain, but I hope for her
to rest in peace--an' not to disgrace heaven wid crutches under her
wings, nuther. I know half a dozen loud-prayers, now, dat 'd be on'y too
glad to 'tract attention away f'om dey own misdoin's by rakin' out
scandalizemint on a dead 'oman. Dey'd 'spute de legalness of dat
marriage in a minute, jes to keep folks f'om lookin' up dey own weddin'
papers--yas, 'm. But me an' de broom--we layin' low, now, an' keepin'
still, but we'll speak when de time comes at de jedgmint day, ef she
need a witness."

"But tell me, Tamar, why didn't Pompey take his bride to the church if
they wanted a regular wedding?"

"Dey couldn't, missy. Dey couldn't on account o' Sis' Sophy-Sophia's
secon' husband, Sam Sanders. He hadn't made no secon' ch'ice yit--an',
you know, when de fust one of a parted couple marries ag'in, dey
'bleeged to take to de broomstick--less'n dey go whar 'tain't known on
'em. Dat's de rule o' divo'cemint. When Yaller Silvy married my Joe wid
a broomstick, dat lef' me free for a chu'ch marriage. An' I tell you,
_I had it, too_. But ef she had a'tempted to walk up a chu'ch aisle
wid Joe--an' me still onmarried--well, I wush dey'd 'a'