Slipping the disk over the wood, he pushed it about half way
along, and then, handing the brush back to the negro, told him to
try it that way.
"Did yo' done put a charm on mah bresh?" asked Eradicate somewhat
doubtfully.
"Yes, a sort of hoodoo charm. Try it now."
The darky dipped his brush in the pail of whitewash, and then began
to spread the disinfectant on the sides of the coop near the top.
The surplus fluid started to run down the handle, but, meeting the
piece of rubber, came no farther, and dripped off on the ground. It
did not run down the sleeve of Eradicate.
"Well, I 'clar t' goodness! That suttinly am a mighty fine charm!"
cried the colored man. "Yo' suah am a pert gen'men, all right. Now I
kin work widout stoppin' t' empty mah sleeve ob lime juice ebery
minute. I'se suttinly obliged t' yo'."
"You're welcome, I'm sure," replied Tom. "I think some day I'll
invent a machine for whitewashing, and then--"
"Doan't do dat! Doan't do dat!" begged Eradicate earnestly. "Dis,
an' makin' dirt disappear, am de only perfessions I got. Doan't go
'ventin' no machine, Mistah Swift."
"All right. I'll wait until you get rich."
"Ha, ha! Den yo' gwine t' wait a pow'ful long time," chuckled
Eradicate as he went on with his whitewashing.
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