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Updated: June 5, 2025
I found him in the garden and the only answer he would give to my questions was that he had as much right there as I had. Who is he?" The wide smile faded from Sam's face. "Mistuh Ralestone, suh, effen dat no-'count trash comes 'round heah agin, yo'all bettah jest call de policemans. Dey's nothin' but poah white trash livin' down in de swamp places an' dey steals whatevah dey kin lay han' on.
"Gittin' soft in de haid, is Ah, yo' ol' wuthless no-'count?" He turned his face, to see the battered jeep from "Greyrock," driven by Arthur, the stableman and gardener, with Sergeant Williamson beside him. The older Negro jumped to the ground and ran toward him. At the same time, he felt Dearest with him again. "We made it, Popsy! We made it!" she was exulting.
Do you hate me?" Timoteo glanced up slowly. His dark eyes were full of appeal. "You no talk to teacher any more about me?" he besought. "You no tell her my father lazy, we no-'count folks?" Timoteo's voice shook. He hurried on: "I like teacher. I try be clean. I wash my hands, my face, all time. I do ver' good to the teacher. But my mother differ from your mother.
The officer's next words made matters plainer. "Things look mightily like ye war set hyar ter watch that thar ledge. Ez soon ez ye seen our men a-goin' ter the Conscripts' Hollow ter sarch fur that thar stole truck, ye war a-goin' ter scuttle off an' gin the alarm ter them rascally no-'count burglars. I saw ye and yer looks, and I suspicioned some sech game.
"Mistuh Val," she announced from the doorway as the sound of the car pulling out of the drive signaled the departure of the city-bound party, "dem lights is out agin." "Another fuse gone? That's the second this week. Who's been playing games?" he asked. "Dis heah no-'count!"
Dere was a no-'count yaller gal, Sally Alley dey call her, wot he'ped erbout de breakfas' an' sech; but she warn't a sho' 'nuff cook naw'm! "She 'lowed she was. She was de beatenes' gal for t'inkin' she knowed eberyt'ing. But, glo-ree! dar wasn't nobody on dat plantation wot could cook er goose tuh suit Mars' Colby lak' my ol' mammy.
Jim Hollman's voice rose truculently, and his words drifted, as he meant them to, across to the ears of the clansmen who stood in the yard of Spicer South. "Them dawgs of your'n come up Misery a-hellin'. They hain't never turned aside, an', onless they're plumb ornery no-'count curs thet don't know their business, they come for some reason. They seemed mighty interested in gittin' hyar.
You-all are the gal with that there no-'count name, an' you've come ter work for him, there," she pointed to Brian, "a-helpin' him ter write his book, what ain't his'n no more, nohow, 'cause he done throwed hit away, plumb inter the river." "I am Miss Williams," returned the other. "My 'no-'count name, I suppose, is Betty Jo." She laughed kindly.
Things would go tah rack an' ruin heah, wid yo' ma allus ailin', an' you so no-'count, ef 'twan't fur ole Dilsey tah keep dese lazy niggahs frum gwinetah sleep en thah tracks.
As she counted them on her fingers she honored each with a shake of the head, so mournful that it might be accounted an obituary in dumb show. "I hev had no sort'n luck with this tur-r-key's brood, an' the t'other hev stole her nest away, an' I hev got sech a mean no-'count set o' chillen they can't find her. Waal! waal! waal! this comin' winter the Lord'll be obleeged ter pervide."
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