class="person">Beeler.

With lazy amusement.

So the Lord's gone back on ginseng now, has He?

Uncle Abe.

Yes, sah.

Beeler.

What makes you think so?

Uncle Abe.

Solemnly.

Roots all kill by de fros'!

His manner grows more and more mysterious; he half closes his eyes, as he goes on in a strange, mounting singsong.

Knowed it more'n a monf ago, fo' dis hyah blin' worl' lef' de plough in de ploughshare an' de ungroun' wheat betwixen de millstones, and went a-follerin' aftah dis hyah new star outen de Eas', like a bride follerin' aftah de bridegroom!

Martha taps her forehead significantly, and goes back to her batter.

Beeler.

New star, Uncle? Tell us about it. Sounds interesting.

Uncle Abe.

Stares at each of them in turn.

Ain' you-all heerd?