"Yes, I want hit. Don't stan' dah a stammerin'! What de Lord goin' do?"
"You want my answer? Well, hyah 'tis. De Lord 'u'd sen' 'nough rain to help de gyarden, but not 'nough ter hurt de oats. Dat's my answer!"
"You don't know what you all talkin' bout! Send 'nough rain ter help de gyarden, an' not 'nough to hurt de oats! You reckon Mr. Ed'ards let er nigger stay on dis place an' pray fer rain when he cuttin' oats? You reckon er nigger goin' ter come hyah an' run er market-gyarden wid 'im on sheers, an' him er prayin' fer dry wedder when cabbage oughter be headin' up? No, sah! You c'n pray fer grace, an' when you gits grace you're all right, rain er no rain; but you better not resk yo'se'f on rain. Folks got ter have somebody ter settle when hit shall rain, an' when hit sha'n't rain. Faith ain' got nothin' ter do 'ith hit. It takes horse sense. Why, ef de Lord was ter tie er rope to de flood-gates, an' let hit down hyah ter be pulled when dey need rain, somebody'd git killed ev'y time dey pulled hit. Folks wid oats ter cut 'u'd lie out wid dey guns an' gyard dat rope, an' folks wid cabbages 'd be sneakin' up in de dyark tryin' ter git hold er hit. Fus' thing you know, er cem'tery grow up roun' dyah an' nobody lef' ter pull de rope!"
"Faith 'u'd fetch it. Yes, sah, hit'll fetch hit."
"Well den it look like faith es 'bout as scyarce an' hard ter git as rain. Has Macedony Church got any?"
"Well den you go down dyah to prayer-meeting ter-night; an' take yo' fambly, an' all de niggers in de settlement what' got faith,--don't get none but faith niggers,--an' see ef you git er rain. You git rain, an' I'll give up. I hyah you all been prayin' fer me ter come in chu'ch--cause de ole roof wants patchin' I reckon. Git de rain an' you gits me too. Go on, an' try hit. I ain't got no time ter waste. Fus' thing you know, rain'll be pourin' down, an' dat dah chu'ch'll be leakin' faster'n a sieve. You goin' ter git rain, Ben?"
"Yes, I'm going' ter try. An' ef we have faith we'll git hit. Hit's a dry moon; ain't narry drop of water dyah, but faith c'n do hit."
The next morning a thin little cloud floated out of the brazen east, a mere ghost of a cloud, and from it was sifted down for about two minutes the poorest apology that nature ever made to injured verdure. Soon it passed into nothingness, and the full sun blazed over the parched land once more. A triumphant laugh was heard out where the hands were hoeing, and Ben's voice was recognized above all the others. They were congratulating him upon his success, when up came old Henry, his sack of carpenter's tools on his back. Ben shouted,