Sarah glanced at Cephas furtively, then at Charlotte; Cephas
never stirred. A pool of water collected around his boots, his brows
bent moodily under his cap.
"Why don't you set down, Cephas, an' take off your boots?" Sarah
ventured at length, timidly.
"Folks are fools," grunted Cephas.
"I dunno what you mean, Cephas."
Cephas got the boot-jack out of the corner, sat down, and began
jerking off the wet boots with sympathetic screws of his face.
Sarah stood with a wooden spoon uplifted, eying him anxiously.
Charlotte went into the pantry.
"There 'ain't anythin' happened, has there, Cephas?" said Sarah,
presently.
Cephas pulled off the second boot, and sat holding his blue yarn
stocking-feet well up from the wet floor. "There ain't no need of
havin' the rheumatiz, accordin' to my way of thinkin'," said he.
"Who's got the rheumatiz, Cephas?"
"If folks lived right they wouldn't have it."
"You 'ain't got it, have you, Cephas?"
"I 'ain't never had a tech of it in my life except once, an' then
'twas due to my not drinkin' enough."
"Not drinkin' enough?"
"Yes, I didn't drink enough water. Folks with rheumatiz had ought to
drink all the water they can swaller. They had ought to drink more'n
they eat."
"I dunno what you mean, Cephas."
"It stands to reason. I've worked it all out in my mind. Rheumatiz
comes on in wet weather, because there's too much water an' damp
'round.
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