Yo’ ain’ gwine ter have no trouble.
LUCY BELLE
Ef Pocher only keep dat room an’ pay me reg’lar. (Old man Pocher is heard grumbling and grunting to himself immediately outside the door, off stage, Back.) Yere he come now!
(The door, Back, opens and Pocher enters, carrying a small package under his arms. He stands in the doorway and points angrily with his cane at the doorstep.)
POCHER
Look dere! Look! Yo’ see—!
LUCY BELLE
W’at—?
POCHER (trembling with anger and fear)