SIMMS.
No, we don’t like the way you’re runnin’ things. Now looka here, (Pointing at the Marshall) You got that lazy Lum Boger here for marshall and he ain’t old enough to be dry behind his ears yet … and all these able-bodied means in this town! You won’t ’low nobody else to run a store ’ceptin’ you. And looka yonder (happening to notice the street light) only street lamp in town, you got in front of your place. (Indignantly) We pay the taxes and you got the lamp.
VILLAGER.
Don’t you-all fuss now. How come you two always yam-yamming at each other?
CLARK.
How come this fly-by-night Methodist preacher over here … ain’t been here three months … tries to stand up on my store porch and tries to tell me how to run my town? (MATTIE CLARK, the Mayor’s wife, comes timidly to the door, wiping her hands on her apron.) Ain’t no man gonna tell me how to run my town. I God, I ’lected myself in and I’m gonna run it. (Turns and sees wife standing in door. Commandingly.) I God, Mattie, git on back in there and wait on that store!
MATTIE.
(Timidly) Jody, somebody else wantin’ stamps.
CLARK.
I God, woman, what good is you? Gwan, git in. Look like between women and preachers a man can’t have no peace. (Exit CLARK.)
SIMMS.
(Continuing his argument) Now, when I pastored in Jacksonville you oughta see what kinda jails they got there….
LOUNGER.
White folks needs jails. We colored folks don’t need no jail.
ANOTHER VILLAGER.
Yes, we do, too. Elder Simms is right….
(The argument becomes a hubbub of voices.)
TAYLOR.
(Putting down his basket) Now, I tell you a jail….