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The Shorn Lamb

that she were dead for twenty-five years."

Philip was glad not to have to touch the fearsome object. The coroner was soon reached by telephone, and thanks to the habit of country telephones, over which it is impossible to impart a secret, the news of Mam' Peachy's death spread like wildfire through the county. By midnight not only was the coroner at The Hedges, but a crowd of people, white and black, that even a fire would not have attracted.

"Well, the ol' debble air a stokin' up this night," said a colored man to his companion. They had run two miles across country not to miss the excitement of seeing the coroner sit on the remains of the dreaded Mam' Peachy.

"Good Gawd, man! Ain't you scairt ter be a mentionin' er ol' Mam' Peachy so disrumspec'ful like?"

"No, sirree! I ain't scairt no mo'. I done been scairt er her all my life, but I allus heard tell that conjer tricks dies when the conjer ooman dies. When they dies they done loses they grip. I reckon they'll be rejicin' all aroun', now Mam' Peachy air done broke her neck. I done stop at Brer Johnson's cabin ter tell him an' Aunt Pearly Gates the news. They do say him an' her air the onlies' ones 'roun' these here parts what ain't never feared Mam' Peachy."