“Come in, Vakey,” Skeeter said in propitiating tones. “I’s de onliest one here.”
“Whar is Tick Hush?” Vakey snapped.
“Tick is gittin’ ready to die,” Skeeter answered evasively. “Doc Moseley is he’pin’ him along.”
“I come here to tell Tick dat he better make a good job of dyin’, an’ drap off real soon,” Vakey bellowed. “Ef he don’t, I’s gwine meet him in de big road an’ cyarve his gizzard an’ his backbone out!”
“Whut’s done made you mad?” Skeeter asked in surprised tones.
“Dat nigger is done monkeyed wid my affectations,” Vakey howled.
“Dat’s too bad,” Skeeter sympathized.
“It don’t hurt me none, but it’s shore bad fer Tick!” Vakey said in a deadly tone.
Then they sat for a long time in silence, while Vakey Vapp breathed deeply with a heaving breast, like a motion-picture star. At last she stood up to go.
“I comed here to gib Ticky Hush a dyin’ message, Skeeter,” she announced. “I’s sorry he ain’t here. But ef Doc Moseley makes a mistake an’ cures Tick, well, I’s gwine bestow my dyin’ message wid de edge of a sharp razor. Good-by!”