AUNT REBECCA
Yas, honey.
LUCY BELLE
Jes’ a minute. Changin’ mah skirt.
(Aunt Rebecca drops into a chair, Left Center, and begins a weird and doleful chant.)
AUNT REBECCA
Um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a! Trouble in mah soul! Um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a! Trouble! (High treble) Um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a! Trouble in mah soul! Um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a! Trouble in mah soul! Um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a!
(Lucy Belle enters, Left. She is a frail, light brown young Negress of about twenty-eight. She has a nervous, hesitant—and sometimes wistful—manner. She wears a plain black waist and a black skirt, patched in several places.)
LUCY BELLE (feelingly, as she kisses Aunt Rebecca)