"Yo' mahmie inside, Capadosia?" Ella paused before the Dalrimple cabin.
Even the mangy brindle pup with his ears sticking sickly up row-rowed
hoarsely after the spunky downpour of rain.
"I is talkin' to you, girl!"
And Capadosia, still pricking the chigger fester in her thumb,
hollowed, "Mahmie!"
"Don't tu'n yo' back 'pon me, girl, befo' I tell yo' mahmie!" Unruly
Capadosia!
"Capadosia, what is it?"
"Miss Heath, heah, mum, she want yo'...."
Skimpy-legged Capadosia, the color of a warm chestnut, freckles
dominant on her rude, glazed, hard little face.
"Hey, dese chilrun, Lizzie...."
Ella stepped over to Capadosia's mother. "Hey, I ask de gal if she
mahmie home an' Lizzie, yo' know what she tell ma, why de little
rapscallion tu'n me she back side an' didn't even say ax yo' pardin."
"Come in heah, miss, come in heah an' tu'n round. Ax Miss Heath pardin!
Ax she! yo' won't--yo' wretch! Vagabond! Take dat, an' dat, an'
dat--shut up, I sez. Shut up, befo' I box ev'y one o' dem teets down
yo' t'roat! Didn't I tell yo' not to be rude, shut up, yes--didn't
I tell yo' not to be onmannerly to people, dat yo' must respect de
neighbors? Like she ain't got no manners! Shut up, I sez, befo' I
hamstring yo', yo' little whelp!"
"Dese gal picknees nowadays is 'nouf to send yo' to de madhouse! Hey,
but Lizzie, what we gwine do wit' de chilrun, ni? Ev'y day dey is
gettin' wussah an' wussah."
"Lord only knows, soulee gal, dat Miss Capadosia, yo' wait till she
pappy come home. He gwine beat she fo' true."
Ella drew near the cabin door; near enough to be able to spy, through
the blue smoke of Lizzie Dalrimple's cooking, Capadosia cutting her
eyes at her and murmuring, "come complainin' 'pon me--de old hag--why
she don't go 'n get sheself a man?"
"An' how yo', ni," cried Ella, turning to Lizzie and coloring brightly,
"how yo'?"
"Oh, so so, soulee gal, I still got de rheumaticks in me leg."
"Yo' ain't doin' not'ing far-rit, no? Hey, gal yo' ain't frighten, no?
Yo' ain't afraid o' de horspitral, no?"
"Come in an' sit down, Ella, an' res' yo'self."
"Don't put yo'self out o' de way, Lizzie, on account o' me. I wus jus'
gwine ask yo' to len' me a pinch o' salt when dat gal chile o' yours
skin up she behin' at me. A body can't even talk to chilrun nowadays."
"Tell yo' de troot, Ella," Lizzie answered, "I jus' use de las' drop
meself to sweeten Christian's coffee. It make he coffee taste good."
"An' how's Christian, soulee?"
"Oh, so so, chile."
"He still at de quarry?"
"Yes, soul."
"Well, I gwine go back down de gap. I lef' de pot boilin'."
"Yes, soulee gal, I jus' shell de bonavis an' put dem in, an' in course
de dumplings will tek long fo' swell up."
"Which kahl to mine dat las' ebenin' Christian bring home a bag o' soup
crabs from Miss Foulkes, de buckra. She are always givin' him soup
meat, or pepper soup, or crab fo' soup, fo' tek' 'way. Howsomevah, dem
crabs is so nice, chile, I nevah taste nothin' like dem in all me bawn
days."
"We usta catch dem in Low'rd, too--but I don't like dem. Giv' me de
belly ache."
"Why yo' don't go up de road an' get a bag o' salt?"
"Up whey?"
"Up at Missah Poyah's shop."
"Missah who?"
"Missah Poyah, no."
"Who 'im are--whey he come from?"
"Palama, soul."
"Palama?"
"Yes."
"An' wha' he doin' heah?"
"He open a shop, soulee."
"Oh, I see."
"Yes, chile, he are a Palama man."
"Well, I must be goin' den," Ella drew the shawl around her shoulders.
"I must go see dis-yah Poyah."
"An' oh, Ella, he got one leg--"
"Yo' don't say!"
"Deed he is! Got it cut off on de canal--"
"I gwine 'long now. Got to go back ... leave me pot boilin' ... got to
go back an' eat me fresh food."