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104 The Conjure Woman

—the balmy spring of North Carolina, when the air is in that ideal balance between heat and cold where one wishes it could always remain,—my wife and I were seated on the front piazza, she wearily but conscientiously ploughing through a missionary report, while I followed the impossible career of the blonde heroine of a rudimentary novel. I had thrown the book aside in disgust, when I saw Julius coming through the yard, under the spreading elms, which were already in full leaf. He wore his Sunday clothes, and advanced with a dignity of movement quite different from his week-day slouch.
"Have a seat, Julies," I said, pointing to an empty rocking chair.
"No, thanky boss, I 'll des set here on de top step."
"Oh, no, Uncle Julius," exclaimed Annie, "take this chair. You will find it much more comfortable."