“I was talkin’ to God,” she answered, quite simply. “You see, before granny died, she said to me: ‘Maddie, dear, be sure and remember, God will take care o’ you. Now don’t forget it,’ she said, ‘just keep rememberin,’ God will take care o’ you.’
“You see, granny forgot ’bout God—she told me so—and she wanted me to be different. When I got to the ’sylum, I tho’t He didn’t live there, tho’ they did read ’bout Him outen a book every mornin’, and before we et we shut our eyes and said somethin’ sounded like ‘ou—wou—wo—wou,’ they said it so fast, I never knew just what they was talkin’, but they called it ‘thanking God.’ I just kept rememberin’, God will take care o’ you, but it seemed like—He—maybe didn’t.
“Then, when they sent me to bed ’cause I told ’em they all acted sif orphums was to be ’stirm’nated like bugs—I s’pose bein’ in bed so long, ’fore it was night, I woke up, ’fore it was day, and got to thinkin’—He had forgot all about me, ’cause granny had forgot about Him.
“I went out on the fire ’scape, so I could get a little nearer to Him, and told him, nice and p’lite, for I don’t believe God likes to be wowed at: ‘God, I reely ain’t no roach, and I don’t want to be ’sterm’nated. I am that little girl wot you made; please don’t be mad to granny any more ’cause she forgot ’bout you. She was sorry.’
“Then I told God some things ’bout granny. How tired she was, how hard she worked, scrubbin’ and washin’—an’ she was old—and her bones was stiff; and I told God, ‘Granny never told no lies, not for fair. Just play lies, you know, like when we didn’t have anythin’ to eat, she’d say, “Well, I guess we’ve been eatin’ too much roast duck and fixin’s, an’ we better fast ’til morning,” and then she’d hold me in her lap and we’d laff ’bout the duck not settin’ well in our stummicks.’
“After ’while she’d say in a sort of a tuney talkin’ way:
‘I’ve got Maddie and Maddie’s got me,
High O! High O!
For the world we don’t care a fiddle-de-dee,
Since I’ve got Maddie and Maddie’s got me,