"Zalie she cum las' night like I told you she would. She's daid now—Zalie is. I don buried her at sun-up—an' I want it tole—if it ever is tole—that the child was buried long o' Zalie. She done planned while she was a-dying.
"I told her what you-all promised an' she went real content-like after that."
There was sodden despair in Becky's voice.
"Who—is the father of this child?"
The commonplace question, under the strain, sounded trivial—but it was rung from Angela's dismay.
Becky gave a rough laugh.
"Not the agony o' death an' the fear o' hell could wring that out of Zalie," she said. Then: "Yo' ain't goin' back on yo' promise, are yo'?"
Sister Angela rallied. At any moment the wheels on the road might end her time for considering poor Becky.
"You mean," she whispered, "that you renounce—this child; give it to me, now? You mean—that I must find a home for it?"
"Yo' done promised—an' it eased Zalie at the end."