“How Bess now?” he asked softly.
She shifted her gaze from the ceiling to his face.
“Eighteen miles tuh Kittiwar!” she muttered. “Rattlesnake’, palmettuh bush, an’ such.”
Her eyes were suddenly fearful, and she closed her hand tightly upon his.
Porgy cast a hurried glance over his shoulder. Then, reassured, stroked her brow, and comforted her in his deep, gentle voice.
“Yuh hyuh wid Porgy now; an’ nuttin’ can’t hurt yuh. Soon de cool wedder comin’ an’ chill off dese febers. Ain’t yuh ’member how dat cool win’ come tuh town wid de smell ob pine tree: an’ how de star is all polish up lak w’ite folks’ silber? Den ebbery body git well. Ain’t yuh know? Yuh jus’ keep still, an’ watch wut Porgy say.”
She was silent after that, and closed her eyes. Presently, to his relief, he saw that she was sleeping. This was the moment for which he had been waiting. He went out, closing the door very gently, and joined a group of sympathisers in the court.
“Wut we goin’ do now?” he asked. “A week gone, an’ she ain’t none better.”
Peter knocked out his clay pipe on a flagstone, with three staccato little raps, thus gaining the attention of the circle.
“Ef yuh wants tuh listen tuh me,” he remarked weightily, “I adwise yer tuh sen’ she tuh de w’ite folk’ hospital.”