Chapter II

Oct 20, 2004 22:16

  Aaron sat on my violin bow and broke it.  He also ruined my Donne book.

WE went tiptoeing along a path amongst the trees back towards the end of the widow's garden, stooping down so as the branches wouldn't scrape our heads. When we was passing by the kitchen I fell over a root and made a noise.  We scrouched down and laid still.  Miss Watson's big nigger, named Jim, was setting in the kitchen door; we could see him pretty clear, because there was a light behind him.  He got up and stretched his neck out about a minute, listening.  Then he says:

"Who dah?"

He listened some more; then he come tiptoeing down and stood right between us; we could a touched him, nearly.  Well, likely it was minutes and minutes that there warn't a sound, and we all there so close together.  There was a place on my ankle that got to itching, but I dasn't scratch it; and then my ear begun to itch; and next my back, right between my shoulders.  Seemed like I'd die if I couldn't scratch.  Well, I've noticed that thing plenty times since.  If you are with the quality, or at a funeral, or trying to go to sleep when you ain't sleepy-if you are anywheres where it won't do for you to scratch, why you will itch all over in upwards of a thousand places. Pretty soon Jim says:

"Say, who is you?  Whar is you?  Dog my cats ef I didn' hear sumf'n. Well, I know what I's gwyne to do:  I's gwyne to set down here and listen tell I hears it agin."
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