Judy spoke in her shrill, drawling monotone: “You-all have sure fixed hit this here time, hain't you? Can't you-all see what a hell of a hole you've done got us inter?”
When Auntie Sue apparently could not reply, Judy continued: “Just as if hit wasn't more 'n enough for you-all ter go an' wear yourself plumb out a-takin' keer of that there ornery, no-'count feller, what I never ought ter dragged out of the river nohow. An', now, you-all got ter go an' just naturally lie like you did ter the Sheriff an' that there deteckertive man. I was plumb scared to death a-listenin' ter you through the crack in the kitchen door. I 'lowed every minute they'd ketch you, sure. My Lord-A'mighty! ma'm, can't you-all figger what'll happen ter weuns if they ever finds out that weuns done had him hid right here in this here house all the time? I never heard tell of such dad burned, fool doin's in all my born days! I sure wish ter God that there old John-boat had a-tuck him off down the river an' smashed him up agin Elbow Rock, like hit ort, an' not a-fetched him ter our door ter git weuns in jail for savin' his worthless, no-'count hide,—I sure do!”
“But, Judy, I never in all my life did such a thing before,” said Auntie Sue in a tremulous whisper, too overwrought to speak aloud.
“You-all ain't a-needin' ter do hit but onct, neither. Onct is sure a heap plenty for that there big Sheriff man. Just look what he did ter my pap! He's jailed pap seven times, that I kin rec'lect. God-A'mighty knows how many times he ketched him 'fore I was borned. An' pap, he didn't do so mighty much ary time, neither.”
“I just had to do it, Judy, dear,” protested Auntie Sue. “It seemed as if I simply could not tell the truth: something wouldn't let me.”
Judy, unheeding her companion's agitation, continued reviewing the situation: “An' just look at all the money you-all done lost!”
“Money?” questioned Auntie Sue.
“Yep, 'money:'—that there reward what they'd a-paid you-all if you-all hadn't a-lied like you did. I reckon as how there'd a-been as much, maybe, as what was in that there letter you-all done sent ter the bank an' ain't never heard tell of since. Hit's most likely clean gone by now, an' here you done gone an' throw'd this other away,—plumb throw'd hit away!”
At this, Auntie Sue's spirit suddenly flashed into fiery indignation.
“Judith Taylor,” she said sharply, “how can you suggest such a wicked thing? Why, I would—I would—DIE before I would accept a penny for doing such a thing!”