Homer.
“ ‘Jack threw the first bucket so fast! All that new milk right in Curly’s face.”
“Why not Homer Champion’s?” objected Aunt Cleo.
“Sister Cleo, it’s Homer that’s arresting him, but he’s married into our family—Mr. Renfro’s and Miss Lexie’s sister is his wife. And you know how Jack holds the family. And all ladies especially he holds in terrible respect.”
“Drummed it into him as a child!” cried Miss Beulah.
“Jack, though, had to set one bucket down before he could throw the other one—he’s like anybody else—and before you know it, old Homer’s give it back to him, the whole thing plumb in the face. Blinds him! Curly and Homer acting in harness lifts himblind-struggling right into Homer’s van with the chickens. Some-wheres they find room in there for the safe too, and Curly climbs in after it and sits on it—Etoyle was quick enough to see he was holding his nose. Homer slams ’em all in together and drives off, without ever giving this house the benefit of a good morning. Little Elvie has to go to the kitchen and cry, to break the news.”
“Hasn’t Homer Champion changed his tune?” asked Aunt Cleo.
“He’s a little bit primed this morning. And a good thing he didn’t catch any of that milk, because it ain’t the drink he’s most overly fond of,” said Uncle Curtis.
“I still don’t see why Curly Stovall couldn’t do his own arresting,” said Aunt Cleo. “A marshal’s got every right in the world and a justice of the peace is very little better than he is.”
“Curly knew better, that’s why! So off Jack’s carted to Foxtown and shooed in jail. And Etoyle said Homer warned him before they started that if he give any more trouble resisting arrest he’d get a bullet ploughed through his leg.”
“Etoyle embroiders. What are you doing sitting down with company now, Etoyle Renfro?” asked Miss Lexie.
“I love to hear-tell.”
“You slip in here for what’s coming next? In time to hear how your poor mother cried?” Aunt Beck reproached her.
“Now, I’m not going to try to tell the way Beulah performed that night,” Uncle Percy whispered. “I ain’t got the strength to do it justice.”
“And you wasn’t here to see it!” called Miss Beulah.
“Well, how did Gloria here perform?” asked Aunt Cleo.
“Cleo! Gloria hadn’t got to be a member of the family that quick!” The other aunts laughed, and Aunt Nanny called, “Had you, Gloria!”
Gloria sat without turning around or speaking a word.
“Has she got good sense?” Aunt Cleo wanted to know.
“No indeed, she’s addled,” Miss Beulah came out to tell her. “And there’s not a thing I or you or another soul here can do about it. It’ll take Jack.”
“I’m wondering by now why even Homer Champion don’t get here,” said Aunt Cleo. “Unless he’s waiting for Jack to get here first.”
“Oh, I can tell you exactly what Homer’s doing. He’s sittingjammed in a hot pew somewhere, waiting on the final Amen so he can shake hands with the whole congregation when they’re let out the door,” said Miss Beulah.
“The biggest, fullest, tightest-packed Baptist church he can find holding preaching today,” said Aunt Beck.
“Then he’ll hurry to shake hands again in front of the Foxtown ice house,” said Uncle Percy. “He’ll catch the Methodists going home to dinner.”
“He’ll figure a way to jar loose a few Presbyterians before the day of worship is over, if he can find some,” said Miss Lexie.
“How’s Curly Stovall putting in his last Sunday?” asked Aunt Cleo.
“He’ll think of some such thing as a fish-fry to sew up all the infidels,” said Miss Beulah, going.
“He figures he’s got the Christians hooked like it is, blooming storekeeper!” recited Elvie, in her mother’s voice.
“What’re you doing here, child?” cried Aunt Beck.
“Keeping the flies killed.”
“Well, sweetheart, your Uncle Homer Champion and Curly Stovall is in
“ ‘Jack threw the first bucket so fast! All that new milk right in Curly’s face.”
“Why not Homer Champion’s?” objected Aunt Cleo.
“Sister Cleo, it’s Homer that’s arresting him, but he’s married into our family—Mr. Renfro’s and Miss Lexie’s sister is his wife. And you know how Jack holds the family. And all ladies especially he holds in terrible respect.”
“Drummed it into him as a child!” cried Miss Beulah.
“Jack, though, had to set one bucket down before he could throw the other one—he’s like anybody else—and before you know it, old Homer’s give it back to him, the whole thing plumb in the face. Blinds him! Curly and Homer acting in harness lifts himblind-struggling right into Homer’s van with the chickens. Some-wheres they find room in there for the safe too, and Curly climbs in after it and sits on it—Etoyle was quick enough to see he was holding his nose. Homer slams ’em all in together and drives off, without ever giving this house the benefit of a good morning. Little Elvie has to go to the kitchen and cry, to break the news.”
“Hasn’t Homer Champion changed his tune?” asked Aunt Cleo.
“He’s a little bit primed this morning. And a good thing he didn’t catch any of that milk, because it ain’t the drink he’s most overly fond of,” said Uncle Curtis.
“I still don’t see why Curly Stovall couldn’t do his own arresting,” said Aunt Cleo. “A marshal’s got every right in the world and a justice of the peace is very little better than he is.”
“Curly knew better, that’s why! So off Jack’s carted to Foxtown and shooed in jail. And Etoyle said Homer warned him before they started that if he give any more trouble resisting arrest he’d get a bullet ploughed through his leg.”
“Etoyle embroiders. What are you doing sitting down with company now, Etoyle Renfro?” asked Miss Lexie.
“I love to hear-tell.”
“You slip in here for what’s coming next? In time to hear how your poor mother cried?” Aunt Beck reproached her.
“Now, I’m not going to try to tell the way Beulah performed that night,” Uncle Percy whispered. “I ain’t got the strength to do it justice.”
“And you wasn’t here to see it!” called Miss Beulah.
“Well, how did Gloria here perform?” asked Aunt Cleo.
“Cleo! Gloria hadn’t got to be a member of the family that quick!” The other aunts laughed, and Aunt Nanny called, “Had you, Gloria!”
Gloria sat without turning around or speaking a word.
“Has she got good sense?” Aunt Cleo wanted to know.
“No indeed, she’s addled,” Miss Beulah came out to tell her. “And there’s not a thing I or you or another soul here can do about it. It’ll take Jack.”
“I’m wondering by now why even Homer Champion don’t get here,” said Aunt Cleo. “Unless he’s waiting for Jack to get here first.”
“Oh, I can tell you exactly what Homer’s doing. He’s sittingjammed in a hot pew somewhere, waiting on the final Amen so he can shake hands with the whole congregation when they’re let out the door,” said Miss Beulah.
“The biggest, fullest, tightest-packed Baptist church he can find holding preaching today,” said Aunt Beck.
“Then he’ll hurry to shake hands again in front of the Foxtown ice house,” said Uncle Percy. “He’ll catch the Methodists going home to dinner.”
“He’ll figure a way to jar loose a few Presbyterians before the day of worship is over, if he can find some,” said Miss Lexie.
“How’s Curly Stovall putting in his last Sunday?” asked Aunt Cleo.
“He’ll think of some such thing as a fish-fry to sew up all the infidels,” said Miss Beulah, going.
“He figures he’s got the Christians hooked like it is, blooming storekeeper!” recited Elvie, in her mother’s voice.
“What’re you doing here, child?” cried Aunt Beck.
“Keeping the flies killed.”
“Well, sweetheart, your Uncle Homer Champion and Curly Stovall is in
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