“O, don’t say that, ma,” Annjee cried weakly from her bed in the other room. “Jimboy’s all right, but he’s just too smart to do this heavy ditch-digging labor, and that’s all white folks gives the colored a chance at here in Stanton; so he had to leave.”

“There you go excitin’ yo’self agin, an’ you sick. I thought you was asleep. I ain’t meant nothin’, honey. Course he’s all right,” Hager said to quiet her daughter, but she couldn’t resist mumbling: “But I ain’t seen him doin’ you no good.”

“Well, he ain’t beat her, has he?” asked Sister Johnson, who, for the sake of conversation, often took a contrary view-point. “I’s knowed many a man to beat his wife. Tom used to tap me a few times ’fo’ I found out a way to stop him, but dat ain’t ned-der here nor dere!” She folded a towel decisively and gave it a vigorous rub with the hot iron. “Did I ever tell you ’bout de man lived next do’ to us in Cairo what cut his wife in de stomach wid a razor an’ den stood ovah her when de doctor was sewin’ her up moanin’: ‘I don’t see why I cut her in de stomach! O, Lawd! She always told me she ain’t want to be cut in de stomach!’ . . . An’ it warn’t two months atter dat dat he done sliced her in de stomach agin when she was tryin’ to git away from him! He were a mean nigger, that man were!”

“Annjee, is you taken yo’ medicine yet? It’s past fo’ o’clock,” Hager called. “Sandy, here, take this fifteen cents, chile, and run to de store an’ get me a soup bone. I gwine try an’ make a little broth for yo’ mother. An’ don’t be gone all day neither, ’cause I got to send these clothes back to Mis’ Dunset.” Hager was pressing out the stockings as she turned her attention to the conversation again. “They tells me, Sister Johnson, that Seth Jones done beat up his wife something terrible.”

“He did, an’ he oughter! She was always stayin’ way from home an’ settin’ up in de church, not even cookin’ his meals, an’ de chillens runnin’ ragged in de street.”

“She’s a religious frantic, ain’t she?” asked Hager. . . . “You Sandy, hurry up, sir! an’ go get that soup bone!”

“No, chile, ’tain’t that,” said Sister Johnson. “She ain’t carin’ so much ’bout religion. It’s Reverend Butler she’s runnin’ atter. Ever’ time de church do’ opens, there she sets in de preacher’s mouth, tryin’ to ’tract de shepherd from his sheep. She de one what taken her husband’s money an’ bought Reverend Butler dat gold-headed walkin’-cane he’s got. I ain’t blame Seth fer hit-tin’ her bap on de head, an’ she takin’ his money an’ buyin’ canes fer ministers!”

“Sadie Butler’s in my school,” said Sandy, putting on his stocking cap. “Reverend Butler’s her stepfather.”

“Shut up! You hears too much,” said Hager. “Ain’t I told you to go on an’ get that soup bone?”