VII. WHITE FOLKS

When they got home, Aunt Hager was sitting in the cool of the evening on her new porch, which had been rebuilt for thirty-five dollars added to the mortgage. The old woman was in her rocking-chair, with Jimboy, one foot on the ground and his back against a pillar, lounging at her feet. The two were quarrelling amicably over nothing as Annjee and Sandy approached.

“Good-evenin’, you-all,” said Annjee.”I brought you a nice piece o’ steak, Jimboy-sugar, and some biscuits to go with it. Come on in and eat while I get dressed to go to the drill practice. I got to hurry.”

“We don’t want no steak now,” Jimboy answered without moving. “Aunt Hager and me had fresh fish for supper and egg-corn-bread and we’re full. We don’t need nothin’ more.”

“Oh! . . .” said Annjee disappointedly. “Well, come on in anyhow, honey, and talk while I get dressed.” So he rose lazily and followed his wife into the house.

Shortly, Sister Johnson, pursued by the ever-present Willie-Mae, came through the blue-grey darkness from next door. “Good-evenin’, Sister Williams; how you been today?”

“Tolable,” answered Hager, “’ceptin’ I’s tired out from washin’ an’ rinsin’. Have a seat.... You Sandy, go in de house an’ get Sister Johnson a settin’-chair. . . . Where’s Tom?”

“Lawd, chile, he done gone to bed long ago. That there sewer-diggin’ job ain’t so good fer a man old as Tom. He ’bout played out.... I done washed fer Mis’ Cohn maself today.... Umh! dis cheer feels good! . . . Looked like to me she had near ’bout fifty babies’ diddies in de wash. You know she done got twins, ’sides dat young-’un born last year.”

The conversation of the two old women rambled on as their grandchildren ran across the front yard laughing, shrieking, wrestling; catching fire-flies and watching them glow in closed fists, then releasing them to twinkle in the sultry night-air.

Harriett came singing out of the house and sat down on the edge of the porch. “Lord, it’s hot! . . . How are you, Mis’ Johnson? I didn’t see you in the dark.”

“Jest tolable, chile,” said the old woman, “but I can’t kick. Honey, when you gits old as I is, you’ll be doin’ well if you’s livin’ a-tall, de way you chillens runs round now ’days! How come you ain’t out to some party dis evenin’?”

“O, there’s no party tonight,” said Harriett laughing. “Besides, this new job of mine’s a heart-breaker, Mis’ Johnson. I got to stay home and rest now. I’m kitchen-girl at that New Albert Restaurant, and time you get through wrestling with pots and arguing with white waitresses and colored cooks, you don’t feel much like running out at night. But the shifts aren’t bad, though, food’s good, and—well, you can’t expect everything.” She shrugged her shoulders against the two-by-four pillar on which her back rested.

“Long’s it keeps you off de streets, I’s glad,” said Hager, rocking contentedly. “Maybe I can git you goin’ to church agin now.”