"Giv' me my goat," said April, "dat is ahl ah ax yo'."
"Dey she is," repeated Zink Diggs, pointing to Zenona. "Go tek she, ni!" But the goat was safely on Zink Diggs' ground.
April made a step to cross it.
"If yo' put a foot 'pon my sorrel I'll brek um fo' yo'," she murmured, vengefully.
"How much yo' wan' fo' de goat?" asked April at last.
"A shillin', an' yo' bettah be bleddy well quick 'bout it befo' ah carry de starved-out t'ing 'ome an' mek currie outa she."
"Teefin' vagybon' yo'," said April, water seeping into her eyes.
"Call me all de bad name yo' lik', but yo' ent gwine get dis goat back to-night till yo' fork up dat shillin'. Dey'll have to jump ovah my grave befo' dey'll get yo' hungry goat fuss."
She turned to one of the children. "Go in de lardah, Mirrie, an' reach up 'pon de ledge an' bring de dah shillin' Bay Rum giv' me yestiddy fo' de eggs." She sighed, for it was her last one.
The child sped through the bush—spindling legs leaving the brown earth—and in a jiffy was back with the piece of silver bright in her dirt-black palm.