Part 14

Mr. Amos put his book aside and laughed with hearty enjoyment at the playful reprimand. He knew by the familiar attitude that Felo was himself again. It was not the familiarity of disrespect or impudence; but a wholesome, child-like familiarity born of simple trust and friendly understanding; a delightful freedom of manner and speech never indulged in before any unsympathetic outsider, but reserved for the exclusive entertainment of his “ole-time buzzum friend,” whom he knew would never misinterpret the intention.

“Then you don’t want a drink, I suppose? Since you feel that you’ve been slighted,” Mr. Amos said to him.

“Who?” Felo answered, reaching for the bottle and taking out the cork with a flourish. “Don’t you know I bin too well-raise to refuse? ’Specially good licker like dis bottle look to be?... An’ I’m goin’ fill up dis glass my own-self, too,” he went on muttering softly. “’Cause you jus’ natchally tetches a bottle too light w’en you eechin’ out licker to people. An’ you know I don’ b’lieve in bein’ skimson ’bout no kind o’ stimalashun.”

Having filled the glasses, he gave one to Mr. Amos, then lifting his own and sniffing with energy, he said:

“Peace an’ happiness to yo’ heart, an’ Gawd keep de castle well-puhvided.”

“That’s a very nice long-sighted wish,” Mr. Amos told him, smiling. “Here’s to your good health, and a whole lot of excitement when you go home Sunday.”

“Look! Leave dat be right whah it is,” Felo answered abruptly. He didn’t want to hear tell nothin’ about any Sunday.... Who wanted to talk about lookin’ for any excitement, when everybody was gone away to the sugar-grindin’, and nobody he cared about was left in Gritny to stir up somh’n anyways interestin’?... He didn’t have nothin’ particular to go home for Sunday. Ma Fanny could get some of Liza’s lazy chillun to worry over totin’ slop for that hog.... And anyway, he was disgusted with totin’ slop like he did every Gawd-blessed Sunday of the world; and ain’t got nothin’ for it except people criticizin’.... They didn’t have nobody he cared to see in Gritny. He was goin’ to stay home and go to church in the evenin’, yonder to Holly Grove, ’cross the New Basin.... Wondering at this sudden disinterest in things at home, Mr. Amos suggested that Lethe might be pleased to see him on Sunday.

Who? Felo answered with a tone of evident disappointment. Lethe wasn’t no diffunt from the rest of them crazy wimmins bin raised on a plantation.... You can take a nigger out the country, but you sho Gawd can’t take the country out a nigger.... He went on with vehemence. Lethe wasn’t satisfied with havin’ a good place to work at Miss Tillie house; comin’ home soon every evenin’, with half a day off on Sunday, when the two of them could be together nice and friendly; there she had to leave ole wild Lizzie Cole put devilment in her head and make her onrestful,—goin’ yonder to the sugar-grindin’ like all them other cheap Gritny niggers what think more about money than they do about manners and behavior....

“An’ ain’ tol’ me a word ’bout w’at she was inten’ to do, till de las’ minute,” he went on.

Now that the cheering drink had loosened his tongue, Mr. Amos knew that he would continue to talk freely, and it was wise to offer no interruption. Of course, goin’ to Gussie’s funeral with Lizzie Cole for her partner couldn’t be helped; Felo went on to relate. Because all the wimmins had to keep separate from the mens and march to they-self; so Lethe was _compelled_ to walk ’long-side of Lizzie, when Lizzie just natchally forced herself on her.... But how Lethe ain’ come to change her mind and break away from Lizzie comin’ back, was somh’n he couldn’t understand, no matter how hard he thought on it.... Stickin’ close to Lizzie like she did, and the two of them comin’ up the big road, dancin’ and shakin’ their reckless bodies to the ratty music the band was playin’; the same as if they were yonder on the flatform to Mr. Snider honky-tonk, back of Gritny.... “And mad like I was, there I couldn’t say a thing to her; ’count o’ bein’ in de purrude wid de Peefus uniform on, an’ all de ’couterments in my hand an’ ’cross my shoulder....”

“And did you get to see her after the funeral was over?” Mr. Amos encouraged him.

“Who?... Maybe you ain’ think I didn’t set to her strong w’en I got back to her house, aft’ I left de crowd at de ferry-landin’,” Felo boasted.

What he said to her sho was goin’ to hold her for a long time; the way he sasharated her feelin’s for leavin’ ole strumpet Lizzie lead her astray, and makin’ her expose herself before all Gritny like she did.... No indeed. He didn’t bit his tongue; when he knowed that the sperret o’ Gawd had called on him to chastise Lethe, and make her re’lize what was her fittin’ tahminashun....

“And did Lethe stand for all your severity and offer no resistance, or try to make an explanation of any kind?” Mr. Amos asked him.

“Da’s de very subjec’ I’m comin’ to now,” Felo continued. “She look like she ain’ _care_ to answer back; jus keepin’ still, an’ goin’ roun’ de room, straight’nin’ up, an’ fixin’ some her clo’se w’at was piled up on de bed.

“I say to myself: Da’s a good sign. She ain’ try’n to start no wrangle, like she always do. She mus’ be thinkin’ ’bout w’at I say to her; an’ she goin’ profit by it.

“So aft’ I had talk all I wan’ talk, an’ tol’ her I was goin’ count on seein’ her nex’ Sunday; she come to de front gate wid me nice an’ frien’ly; an’ I lef’ her lookin’ like she was please’; an’ went roun’ to Ma Fanny house to see how things was gittin’ on, befo’ I start back ’cross de river.

“Evvything had come to look so encouragin’, I never would bin thought ’bout nothin’ diffunt; an’ my ’tenshun was leadin’ me to hurry up an’ git hyuh to fix things for you quick as I could. But it mus’ bin de sperret o’ Gawd met me on de road, an’ tol’ me to go by de Morgan station....

“W’en de nex’ thing I knowed: Hyuh was Lethe, wid a bundle o’ clo’se un’ her arm; stannin’ in line at de railroad station, munks a mul’tude o’ wimmins, waitin’ to git on de train goin’ yonder to Lafoosh sugar-grindin’.... Wid Lizzie Cole right ’longside her, grinnin’ at me like a fatal devil straight out o’ Hell.”

“And what did you do?” asked Mr. Amos, laughing with keen amusement at the awkwardness of the situation and Felo’s naïve revealment of righteous disappointment.

“W’at you expec’ me to do, w’en de train was jus’ ’bout to pull out from de station?” He asked fretfully. “You ain’ think I’m goin’ jump on an’ go ’long wid her, is you?”

“And Lethe never told you anything about wanting to go to the grinding?” Mr. Amos inquired.

“What Lethe wan’ go to any grindin’ for, w’en she makin’ good money at Miss Tillie house? An’ got a nice place to live in, decen’ an’ high-minded? An’ got me to lend her ’sistance inny time she lookin’ for a willin’ han’?” ... Felo argued with growing resentment. “Lethe ain’ never had no grindin’ to study ’bout, till dat wil’ Hellian Lizzie come ’long an’ got her worked up ove’ it.... An’ for nothin’ mo’ den to spite me, an’ git me onsatafied; ’cause she knowed dat nex’ to my church, Lethe was de secon’ big injoyment to make me count on comin’ over to Gritny evvy Sunday.... But w’at I got to count on now? De way things done come to be mixed up, an’ Lethe done gone away?”

There was a note of loneliness in his voice, and his face assumed an expression of utter bereavement. Mr. Amos regarded him in silence, amused by his quaint philosophy, at the same time conscious of a feeling of genuine sympathy.

“To look at you now,” he said to him cheerfully, “anyone would think that Lethe was dead and buried, and you didn’t have a friend left in the world. Aren’t there some other worthwhile people in Gretna you can go to see?... There, take your glass, and have a drink to a new pleasure next Sunday.”

Felo looked at the bottle, trying to smile. He wasn’t worrin’ about seein’ no Gritny people, he answered with polite indifference. Nearly everybody what had any life in them, and counted for somh’n with the colored folks, was gone to the country. And all the other ondecent mixtry they had roamin’ around town, he didn’t care to have no traffic with.... But maybe he would look over his mind, and go to see Aunt Susan and Tom. Because he got word that Susan was goin’ to give a molasses candy pullin’, to raise a little money for ole Unc’ Foteen. So maybe he would consider goin’ up the coast, and help out the best way he could.... Every little nickel did some good in the time of need. And the poor ole man didn’t have so long to live, no-how.... And then he was sure Unc’ Nat would be there to give Susan a hand. You could always look to find Unc’ Nat any place where they was passin’ around the plate, takin’ up collection for somebody in trouble.... And any way, he wouldn’t mind seein’ Unc’ Nat, Sunday. ’Cause Unc’ Nat was one what never fail to make somebody laugh when they be feelin’ down-casted and onsatafied....

“Well then, fill your glass, and let us drink to a big jubilation at Susan’s next Sunday,” Mr. Amos told him. “And then, go to bed and rest yourself, and try to forget your disappointment. You know, we both need plenty of sleep and rest if we expect to keep young and always look beautiful.”

“Man, quit yo’ humbug, for Gawd sake,” Felo answered, with a broad smile, as he filled a glass for Mr. Amos and handed it to him.

Then he poured a glass for himself and drank it down with a sounding gulp, and looked at Mr. Amos, saying:

“Who ever tol’ you, you was beautiful?... You know good as I know, dat Miss Ellen, either Ma Fanny, ain’ never rocked either one us on dey lap no time, an’ say: Go to sleep my pretty baby.”