FullReads

Judging from her chuckles and waggings of the head when she made this remark, it might be imagined that Aunt Rebecca was rather proud of the fact that her husband thought her capable of exhibiting a different kind of diabolism every day in the week.

The leader of the indignant church-members was Susan Henry; a mulatto woman of a very independent turn of mind. She prided herself that she never worked in anybody’s house but her own, and this immunity from outside service gave her a certain pre-eminence among her sisters. Not only did Susan share the general resentment with which the startling statement of old Peter had been received, but she felt that its promulgation had affected her position in the community. If every woman was possessed by seven devils, then, in this respect, she was no better nor worse than any of the others; and at this her proud heart rebelled. If the preacher had said some women had eight devils and others six, it would have been better. She might then have made a mental arrangement in regard to her relative position which would have somewhat consoled her. But now there was no chance for that. The words of the preacher had equally debased all women.

A meeting of the disaffected church-members was held the next night at Susan Henry’s cabin, or rather in the little yard about it, for the house was not large enough to hold the people who attended it. The meeting was not regularly organized, but everybody said what he or she had to say, and the result was a great deal of clamor, and a general increase of indignation against Uncle Pete.

“Look h’yar!” cried Susan, at the end of some energetic remarks, “is dar enny pusson h’yar who kin count up figgers?”

Inquiries on the subject ran through the crowd, and in a few moments a black boy, about fourteen, was pushed forward as an expert in arithmetic.

“Now, you Jim,” said Susan, “you’s been, to school, an’ you kin count up figgers. ‘Cordin’ ter de chu’ch books dar’s forty-seben women b’longin’ to our meetin’, an’ ef each one ob dem dar has got seben debbils in her, I jus’ wants you ter tell me how many debbils come to chu’ch ebery clear Sunday ter hear dat ole Uncle Pete preach.”

This view of the case created a sensation, and much interest was shown in the result of Jim’s calculations, which were made by the aid of a back of an old letter and a piece of pencil furnished by Susan. The result was at last announced as three hundred and nineteen, which, although not precisely correct, was near enough to satisfy the company.

“Now, you jus’ turn dat ober in you all’s minds,” said Susan. “More’n free hundred debbils in chu’ch ebery Sunday, an’ we women fotchin ’em. Does anybody s’pose I’s gwine ter b’lieve dat fool talk?”

A middle-aged man now lifted up his voice and said: “I’s been thinkin’ ober dis h’yar matter and I’s ‘cluded dat p’r’aps de words ob de preacher was used in a figgeratous form o’ sense. P’r’aps de seben debbils meant chillun.”

These remarks were received with no favor by the assemblage.

“Oh, you git out!” cried Susan. “Your ole woman’s got seben chillun, shore ‘nuf, an’ I s’pec’ dey’s all debbils. But dem sent’ments don’t apply ter all de udder women h’yar, ‘tic’larly ter dem dar young uns wot ain’t married yit.”

This was good logic, but the feeling on the subject proved to be even stronger, for the mothers in the company became so angry at their children being considered devils that for a time there seemed to be danger of an Amazonian attack on the unfortunate speaker. This was averted, but a great deal of uproar now ensued, and it was the general feeling that something ought to be done to show the deep-seated resentment with which the horrible charge against the mothers and sisters of the congregation had been met. Many violent propositions were made, some of the younger men going so far as to offer to burn down the church. It was finally agreed, quite unanimously, that old Peter should be unceremoniously ousted from his place in the pulpit which he had filled so many years.