"Well," solemnly answered Phyllis, "it soun' mo' ladylike ter heah er hen cackle dan ter crow, but dem wimmen hens whut wants ter heah dersefs crow is got de right ter do it," shaking her head in resignation but disapproval, "but I allus notice dat de roosters keeps mo' comp'ny wid hens whut cackles, dan dem whut crows. G'long now an' cackle like er nice lit'le hen."
Cack-le, lack-le, lack-le, lack-le ear-ly in de dawn-in'; Nice fresh aigs for yer brek-fus' ev-'y mawnin'; Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck caw caw caw an' er cock-er doo-dle doo (Cock crows............ ..............) An' er cock-er doo-dle doo.]
"Put some bread crumbs on top of the barrel, Willis, and less see if he can peck it off," suggested Mary Van in baby treble.
The Langshan seemed to understand, for he watched Willis with interest as he crumbled the bread; and after due consideration, and with an almost human scorn towards the hens, measured his steps to the barrel, and stretching his long neck, removed every crumb from the top. After this he slowly raised one foot as though to return to the company of hens, but changing his mind, stood with the foot poised in air and one eye apparently fixed upon Phyllis.
"Come on, chillun, I ain' gwine stay hyah an' let dat ole chicken conjur me."
"I don't want to go, Mammy, I want to stay and feed the chickens," protested Willis.
"I want to see him eat off the barrel some more," pleaded Mary Van.
"Dat rooster ain't no chicken, I tell yer, 'tain' nuthin' in dis worl' but er hant."
This closed the argument, for they felt the mysterious influence of "hants" that was upon Phyllis, hence they followed like the meekest of lambs until she stopped at her own room in the yard. After stirring some embers to a flickering sort of blaze, she looked insinuatingly about her and broke into an excited whisper: "Whinsomev'r yer sees enything right shiny black, widout er single white speck on hit nowhar, you kin jes put hit down in yo' mine, _dats er hant_! 'Tain' no use ter argufy erbout it; dem's de creeturs dat speerets rides whin dey comes back ter dis worl'. An' 'twas one er dem same black, biggity Langshans dat ole man Gully's hant come back inter." Phyllis had taken her seat by this time, and the children had scrambled into her lap. "Sakes erlive! You all mos' claw me ter death. How yer 'speck erbody ter be hol'in' two growd up fokes like youall is?" But the children continued to climb, one on each knee. Phyllis put out her foot and dragged a chair in front of her. "Hyah stretch yer foots out on de cheer, an' mebby ef yer sets still, I kin make out ter hole yer."