The negro baby’s thick, red lips curved in a grin of delight, his shiny ebony face beamed happily, his round black eyes sparkled as he held out his fat, rusty little hands.  He sucked greedily at the candy as the two mischievous little boys uncorked the bottle and, poured a generous supply of the liquid on his head.  They rubbed it in well, grinning with delight.  They made a second and a third application before the bottle was exhausted; then they stood off to view the result of their efforts.  The effect was ludicrous.  The combination of coal black skin and red gold hair presented by the little negro exceeded the wildest expectations of Jimmy and Billy.  They shrieked with laughter and rolled over and over on the floor in their unbounded delight.

“Hush!” warned Jimmy suddenly, “I believe Sarah Jane’s coming out here to see ’bout Benny Dick.  Let’s get behind the door and see what she’s going to do.”

    “`Hit were good fer Paul an’ Silas,
      Hit were good fer Paul an’ Silas,
      Hit were good fer Paul an’ Silas,
      An’ hit’s good ernough fer me.’”

floated Sarah Jane’s song nearer and nearer.

    “`Hit’s de ole time erligion,
      Hit’s de ole time’”

She caught sight of her baby with his glistening black face and golden hair.  She threw up her hands, closed her eyes, and uttered a terrified shriek.  Presently she slowly opened her eyes and took a second peep at her curious-looking offspring.  Sarah Jane screamed aloud: 

“Hit’s de handiwork er de great Jehoshaphat!  Hit’s de Marster’s sign.  Who turnt yo’ hair, Benny Dick?” she asked of the sticky little pickaninny sitting happily on the floor.  “Is a angel been here?”

Benny Dick nodded his head with a delighted grin of comprehension.

“Hit’s de doing er de Lord,” cried his mother.  “He gwine turn my chile white an’ he done begunt on his head!”

There was an ecstatic giggle from behind the door.

Sarah Jane rushed inside as fast as her mammoth proportions would admit and caught a culprit in each huge black paw.

“What yer up ter now, Jimmy Garner?” she asked.  “What yer been er-doing?”

Sudden suspicion entered her mind as she caught sight of the empty bottle lying on a chair.  “You been er-putting’ suthin’ on my chile’s head!  I knows yer, I’s er-gwine ter make yo’ mammy gi’ ye de worses’ whippin’ yer eber got an’ I’s gwine ter take dis here William right ober ter Miss Minerva.  Ain’t y’ all ‘shame’ er yerselves?  Er tamperin’ wid de ha’r what de good Lord put on er colored pusson’s head an’ ertryin’ fer ter scarify my feelin’s like yer done.  An’ yer hear me, I’s gwine see dat somebody got ter scarify yer hides.”

“If that ain’t just like you, Billy,” said Jimmy, “you all time got to perpose to make nigger heads yeller and you all time getting little boys in trouble.  You ’bout the smart Alexist jack-rabbit they is.”