One night, after a stormy time at the mourners' bench, and while women whose spirits were distressed still stood sobbing about the altar, Mayberry approached a well-known member of the church, and said:
"Who is that peculiar old woman, that wrinkled and strange-eyed dwarf who sits so near the pulpit every night?"
"We call her old Tildy," Brother Hendricks replied. "She has been a-livin' in this here neighborhood mighty nigh ever sense I kin ricolleck. She's a mighty strange old woman, but I never hearn no harm uv her."
"She may be a good woman," the preacher rejoined, "but she casts a chill over me every time I look at her. Goodbye, Brother Hendricks. Think of me to-night when you get down on your knees."
The preacher sought his temporary home. He lived about a mile from the church, in an old log cabin with one room. Many of the people had offered him a home, but, declining, he declared that he wanted to be alone at night, so that, undisturbed, he could pursue his studies or pray for inspiration.
The hour was late. The preacher had taken down "Fox's Book of Martyrs" and was looking at its thrilling illustrations, when a knock at the door startled him.
Old Tildy stepped into the room, and, quickly closing the door, stood with her back against it. She nodded her head and smiled--a snaggle-tooth grin--and said:
"Powerful glad ter know that folks air well."
"Thank you; but what business can you have with me at this time of night?"
"Mighty 'portant bizness, Brother Mayberry, mighty 'portant."
"Not ez much ez it do yourn, Brother Mayberry; not nigh so much ez it do yourn."
"I don't understand you!" the evangelist exclaimed.
"But I'll see that you do, Brother Mayberry. I reckon you've noticed me at church, hai'nt you?"
"Not much, Brother Mayberry; not much. I went thar to see you."
"To see me! Why on earth, madam, do you care to see me?"
"Would ruther see you on earth, Brother Mayberry, than anywhar else. I went to see you, Brother Mayberry, because I love you."
"Merciful heavens!" exclaimed the evangelist, throwing up his hands in a gesture of horror.
"Yes, Brother Mayberry, I love you, and I want you to be my husband."
"Oh, God forbid!" the disgusted preacher groaned.
"Yes, Brother Mayberry, but the Lawd hain't forbid. Let me tell you one thing: when old Tildy sets her head, w'y suthin' is goin' ter happen. Does folks cross old Tildy? Yes, sometimes. Did old Patterson cross Tildy? Yes, Patterson crossed po', old, harmless Tildy. Whut did Tildy do? She grabbed Patterson's boy an' hil him under the water till he was drounded. Did Martin cross old Tildy? Yes, Martin crossed old Tildy. What did old Tildy do? She met old Martin in the woods an' killed him, an' folks thought he killed hisse'f. Now, air you, in the bloom o' yo' youth and beauty, goin' to cross po', old, harmless Tildy?"