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Updated: June 5, 2025
"I'll step an' see, Miss Vannie. 'At sho ain't no place fuh a nice gal lak Cissie." Tump turned on his mission, evidently intending to walk to Jonesboro and offer himself in the place of the prisoner. Peter supported Vannie back into the poor living-room, and placed her in the old rocking-chair before the empty hearth.
This was a new prisoner, and she was asking him of himself. "How long are you in for?" she asked. "Fuhrebber, ma'm; fuh des es long es I lib," the negro answered, looking down to where he was making marks on the ground with his toes. "And how did you get such a dreadful sentence?" "I ent do much, ma'm; I des scare a white lady."
"Yeah, right now," carped Rose. "Ever'thing he wants, he wants right now. He's been res'less as a cat in a bulldog's den ever sence he come home fuh dinner. Dunno whut's come into he ole bones, runnin' th'ugh his dinner lak a razo'-back." She withdrew in a continued mumble of censure.
"Look heah, nigger," said Tump, in a different tone, "I faded dad deed fuh ten iron men, an' I reckon I got a once-over comin' fuh my money." The soldier was plainly mobilized and ready to attack. To fight Tump, to fight any negro at all, would be Peter's undoing; it would forfeit the moral leadership he hoped to gain. Moreover, he had no valid grounds for a disagreement with Tump.
"I dun'no', suh; but I run um clean to de woods 'fo' I ketch um, en I walk back slow 'kase I tired." "Were you gone an hour?" "I spec so, suh, 'kase when I done ketch de chicken I stop fuh pick up some light-wood I see wey Abram been cuttin' wood yistiddy." "And your mistress was not here when you came back nor Abram?"
Perhaps the house had been robbed, or the furniture taken back by the seller, for it had not been entirely paid for. Finally he went across the street and called to a boy in a neighbor's yard. "Does you read writin', Johnnie?" "Yes, sir, I 'm in the seventh grade." "Read dis yer paper fuh me." The youngster took the note, and with much labor read the following: "Mr.
Chloe brought the raisins over to Miss Madeira at last, and let them drop slowly into the crock, watching carefully for stray bits of stem. "Simlike nowadays ef he teef go agin a hardness spile he tas' fuh de cake," she said anxiously. "We do have to humour his poor appetite, don't we, Chloe? Never mind, he'll be better soon, I hope." "Whut madder wid he, Miss Sally, innyhow, Honey?"
"I kain't see whut you want wid a divo'ce," said Jim Pink, yawning, "when you been ma'ied three times widout any." "It's fuh a Christmas present," explained the Persimmon, carelessly, "fuh th' woman I'm libin' wid now. Mahaly's a great woman fuh style. I'm goin' to divo'ce my other wives, one at a time lak my lawyer say." "On what grounds?" asked Peter, curiously. "Desuhtion." "Desertion?"
"I dunno 'bout dat, suh. It mought cos' mo', en it mought cos' less, ez fuh ez money is consarned. I ain' denyin' you could cl'ar up dat trac' er Ian' fer a hund'ed er a couple er hund'ed dollahs, ef you wants ter cl'ar it up. But ef dat 'uz my trac' er Ian', I would n' 'sturb it, no, suh, I would n'; sho 's you bawn, I would n'." "But why not?" I asked.
"You niggers wait heah tull I runs up to Miss Vannie's an' git some o' Cissie's clo'es fuh you to tote her." Tump objected. "Jail ain't no place fuh clean clo'es. She jes better serve out her term lak she is, an' wash up when she gits th'ugh." "You fool nigger!" snapped Nan. "She kain't serve out her term lak she is!" "Da' 's so," said Tump.
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