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Updated: May 25, 2025
"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.
After the necessary moment of talk, the mulatto inquired for Cissie. The yellow woman seemed slightly ill at ease. "Cissie ain't so well, Peter." "She's not ill?" "N-no; but the excitement an' ever'thing " answered Vannie, vaguely. In the flush of his plans, Peter was keenly disappointed. "It's very important, Mrs. Dildine." Vannie's dried yellow face framed the ghost of a smile.
The three negroes stood motionless in the dusty hallway, motionless save for the racking of Vannie's sobs. Tump Pack stirred himself. "Well, we gotta git her out." His words trailed off. He stood wrinkling his half-inch of brow. "I wonder would dey exchange pris'ners; wonder ef I could go up an' serve out Cissie's term." "Oh, Tump!" gasped the woman, "ef you only could!"
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