His words were received with a surprise amounting to incredulity.
“Fuh Gawd sake, Daddy Peter!” an awed voice said at last. “Ain’t yuh knows dey lets nigger die dey, so dey kin gib um tuh de student?”
But the old negro stood his ground.
“De student ain’t gits um ’til he done dead. Ain’t dat so? Den he can’t hurt um none. Ain’t dat so, too? An’ I gots dis tuh say. One ob my w’ite folks is er nuss tuh de hospital; and dat lady is er pure angel wid de sick nigger. Ef I sick tuhmorruh I goin’ tuh she; an’ wut she say is good wid me. I wants dis carcase tek care ob w’ile he is alibe. W’en he done dead, I ain’t keer.”
“Yuh ain’t keer whedder yuh is cut up an’ scatter, ’stead of bein’ bury in Gawd own grabe-yahd?” someone asked the iconoclast.
Under this direct attack, the old man weakened.
“Well, mebbe I ain’t sayin’ I jus’ as lief,” he compromised. “But I t’ink Gawd onduhstan’ de succumstance, an’ mek allowance.”
Serena Robbins broke the silence which followed.
“How come yuh ain’t ax me fuh pray ober um?” she enquired in a slightly offended voice. “Mus’ be yuh is done fergit how Gawd done answer we las’ prayeh, and sen’ dat goat tuh sabe yu’ life, when starbation done stan’ dey an’ look yuh in de eye.”
Porgy brightened at that, and turned eagerly from the dark horror of Peter’s suggestion.