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Presently Bobbs came angling across the street toward the Siner cabin. As he entered the rickety gate, old Caroline called out: "Whut is you after, anyway, white man?" Bobbs turned cold, truculent eyes on the old negress. "A turkey roaster," he snapped. "Some o' you niggers stole Miss Lou Arkwright's turkey roaster." "Tukky roaster!" cried the old black woman, in great disgust.
You know dey ain't no tukky roaster under dat sody-water. I 'cla' 'fo' Gawd, ef a white man wuz to eat a flapjack, an' it did n' give him de belly-ache, I 'cla' 'fo' Gawd he'd git out a search-wa'nt to see ef some nigger had n' stole dat flapjack goin' down his th'oat." "Mr. Bobbs has to do his work, Mother," put in Peter. "I don't suppose he enjoys it any more than we do."
Miss Elmer; yo' sho'ly wouldn't tink of doin' dat ar?" exclaimed Aunt Chloe, who had by this time become a fixture in the Elmer household, and had come out with the rest to see the alligator. "Why not, Chloe?" asked Mrs. Elmer, in surprise. "'Kase ef you's putten um in de groun', how's Marse Tukky Buzzard gwine git um? Can't nebber hab no luck ef you cheat Marse Tukky Buzzard dat ar way."
Peter looked into the pans again. "Ain't you see whut it's all in?" "What it's in?" "Yeah; whut it's in. You heared whut I said." "What is it in?" "Why, it's in Miss Arkwright's tukky roaster, dat's whut it's in." The old negress drove her point home with an acid accent.
"Whut you s'pose us niggers is got to roast in a tukky roaster?" The constable answered shortly that his business was to find the roaster, not what the negroes meant to put in it. "I decla'," satirized old Caroline, savagely, "dish-heah Niggertown is a white man's pocket. Ever' time he misplace somp'n, he feel in his pocket to see ef it ain't thaiuh. Don'-chu turn over dat sody-water, white man!
"An' dar!" she continued, beginning to unload the large basket "dar's a tukky an' two chickuns offen my own precious roost; nor likewise beholden to ole mis for dem nyder. An' dar! dar's sassidges and blood puddin's out'n our own dear pig as me an' ole man Jov'al ris an' kilt ourselves; an' in course no ways beholden to ole mis'," she concluded, arranging these edibles upon the table.
"I want you to tell me," he said to Mornin, "what she needs. I suppose she needs something or other." "She needs mos' ev'rything, Mars Tom," was the answer; "seems like she hain't bin pervided fer 't all, no more 'n ef she was a-gwine ter be a youn' tukky dat de Lord hisself hed fitted out at de start."
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