Then Aunt Minervy Ann went to see about dinner.
VI
HOW SHE AND MAJOR PERDUE FRAILED OUT THE GOSSETT BOYS
During the progress of the fair, there was some discussion of financial matters in Major Perdue’s family. As I remember, someone had given Paul Conant a check which was thrown out by the Atlanta bank on which it was drawn. The sum was not a considerable one, but it was sufficiently large to attract Aunt Minervy Ann’s attention.
“I ’speck dey got mo’ banks in Atlanty dan what we-all got down here,” she remarked, the next time I had an opportunity to talk with her. She laughed so heartily as she made the remark that I regarded her with some astonishment. “You may look, suh, but I ain’t crazy. When I hear anybody say ‘bank’ it allers puts me in min’ er de time when me an’ Marse Tumlin frailed out de Gossett boys.”
“Frailed out the Gossett boys?” I exclaimed.
“Yasser, frailed is de word.”
“But what has that to do with a bank?” I inquired.
“Hit got all ter do wid it, suh,” she replied. We were in the sitting-room, and Aunt Minervy Ann sank down on a footstool and rested one arm on the lounge. “Right atter freedom dey wa’n’t nothin’ like no bank down whar we live at; you know dat yo’se’f, suh. Folks say dat banks kin run widout money, but ’fo’ you start um, dey got ter have money, er sump’n dat look like money. An’ atter freedom dey wa’n’t no money ’roun’ here ’cep’ dat kin’ what nobody ain’t hankerin’ atter.