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Updated: May 8, 2025
"You eatin' Lula, dat who you eatin'," Emma told him with grisly unction. "Dem 's de same laigs use to scratch roun' we kitchen do'. Dat 's de same lovin'-hearted hen I raise fum a baby. But, Lawd! Whut you care? You 's de sort kin go trapesin' off by yo'se'f over de worl'. You dat uppidy dese days, whut you care 'bout eatin' up po' lil Lula? She ain't nobody but us-all's chicken, nohow!"
"I think you were horrid to her," exclaimed Honora, indignantly. "It wouldn't have hurt you to drive her to Mrs. Darlington's." It did not occur to her that her rebuke implied a familiarity at which they had swiftly but imperceptibly arrived. "Oh, yes, it would hurt me," said he. "I'd rather spend a day in jail than drive with Lula in that frame of mind.
She didn't stay till Christmas; she went 'way to to heaven." "Oh!" "If Metalka had stayed, I might have gone to school this year." "I thought you had been to school, Lula." "Oh, no! only to little school out here summers, little school some ladies made; and Metalka tole me taught me showed me ev'ry day after she came back ev'ry day, till til she went 'way.
Her veil was grey, and with the hat gave her somewhat the air of a religieuse, an aspect heightened by the perfect oval of her face; and something akin to a religious thrill ran through her. The automobile, with its brass and varnish shining in the sunlight, was waiting a little way up the street, and the first person Honora met in the vestibule of Delmonico's was Lula Chandos.
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