SPIRITS, SEEN AND UNSEEN 
“Dat’s right, honey,” said Uncle Remus. “You put yo’ pen- 
nunce in Brer Rabbit en yo’ won’t be fur out er de way.” 
There was some further conversation among the negroes, but 
it was mostly plantation gossip. When Aunt Tempy rose to go 
she said: — 
“Goodness knows, Brer Remus, ef dis de way you all runs on, 
I’m gwine ter pester you some mo’. Hit come ’cross me like ole 
times, dat it do.” 
“Do so, Sis Tempy, do so,” said Uncle Remus, with dignified 
hospitality. “You allers fine a place at my h’a’th. Ole times is 
about all we got lef’.” 
“Trufe, too!” exclaimed Aunt Tempy; and with that she took 
the child by the hand and went out into the darkness. 
XXVIII 
SPIRITS, SEEN AND UNSEEN 
It was not many nights before the same company was gathered 
in Uncle Remus’s cabin, — Daddy Jack, Aunt Tempy, and the 
little boy. The conversation took a turn that thrilled the child 
with mingled fear and curiosity. Uncle Remus had inquired as to 
the state of Aunt Tempy’s health, when the latter came in, and 
her response was: — 
“I feelin’ mighty creepy, Brer Remus, sho’. Look like I bleedz 
ter hunt comp’ny. W’en I come ’long down I felt dat skittish twel 
ef a leaf had blow’d ’crost de paff, I’d ’a’ des about drapt in my 
tracks.” 
“How come dat, Sis Tempy?” Uncle Remus inquired. 
“You know dat little gal er Riah’s? Well, I ’uz settin’ up dar 
in my house ’w’ile ergo, w’en, bless gracious! fus’ news I know, I 
year dat chile talkin’ in the yuther room. I ’low ter myse’f, she 
ain’t talkin’ ter Riah, ’kaze Riah ain’t come yit, un den I crope 
129 
