Georgia Boy Read Free

afternoon during Miss Susie Thing’s wedding when she was going to marry Hubert Willy, the substitute mail carrier. My old man listened to all Preacher Hawshaw had to say, but he didn’t show any signs of wanting to ring the bell for him.
    “I tell you what, Mr. Stroup,” Preacher Hawshaw said, after waiting a long time for my old man to say something. If you’ll ring the bell while the wedding’s taking place this afternoon, I won’t pester you about attending church services the whole rest of the year. Now, ain’t that fair, Mr. Stroup?”
    “It would be a heap more fairer if you’d promise never to pester me about going to church—this year or any year to come,” Pa told him.
    “That’s asking a great deal of me, Mr. Stroup,” he said slowly. “It’s my duty to keep after folks until they go to church.”
    “If you want the bell rung bad enough,” my old man said, “you’ll treat me like a Methodist or Baptist, and stop trying to make me go to the Universalist church to hear you preach. I’ve got a religion of my own, and if it’s good enough for me, listening to a Universalist preacher preach would only make me dissatisfied with what I’ve got. You wouldn’t want to be the cause of making me turn my back on my own religion, would you?”
    Preacher Hawshaw leaned against the wall as if he were all tired out, and thought for a long time. Pa sat where he was on the banister and waited for him to make up his mind.
    “Let’s not discuss religion any more today, Mr. Stroup,” he said at last. “I’m all fagged out, and I’ve got that marriage ceremony to perform in less than half an hour. It’s too late for me to hunt up anybody else to ring the bell, and if you don’t ring it for me, I’ll be in a pretty pickle.”
    My old man got up from the banister and walked down the steps into the yard. Preacher Hawshaw followed him as fast as he could.
    “I’ll ring it for you this time, just to help you out,” Pa said. “Nobody has ever been able to accuse me of refusing to lend a helping hand in a time of trouble.”
    “That’s fine!” Preacher Hawshaw said, smiling and beaming at Pa. “I knew all along I could count on you, Mr. Stroup!”
    He began dusting off his clothes and adjusting his necktie.
    “Now, there’s not much to do,” he said. “All you have to remember is to ring the bell the instant I start reading the marriage ceremony, and keep on ringing it until the bride and groom have left the church and passed out of sight down the street. When you can’t see hide or hair of them any longer, you’ll know it’s time to quit ringing it. That’s plain enough, now ain’t it, Mr. Stroup?”
    “I couldn’t get balled up doing a simple thing like that,” my old man told him. “It’ll be as easy as falling off a log.”
    He backed down the path towards the street.
    “I’ve got to hurry over to the church now,” he said nervously. “The ceremony is due to start in about twenty minutes. You dress yourself up and come over there as fast as you can, Mr. Stroup. I’ll be waiting in the vestibule right beside the bell-rope.”
    Preacher Hawshaw turned around and hurried off towards the Universalist church three blocks away. My old man started inside the house.
    “Come on, son,” he said to me, waving his arm in a big sweep. “Let’s get ready to go to the wedding. I’ll need you to help me ring that bell. Come on!”
    We went inside and Pa doused his head in the wash basin and slicked down his hair with the brush. As soon as he had finished that, we were ready to go.
    “Will you let me ring it some by myself, Pa?” I asked, running along beside him in order to keep up. “Can I, Pa?”
    “We’ll see when we get there, son,” he told me. “If it ain’t too heavy for you to pull all by yourself, you can.”
    People were walking towards the church already, and we passed them and hurried ahead so we would be there in plenty of time to start ringing the bell. There was a