VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS.
(Angrily) Never mind now—you couldn’t come when I called you. I don’t want yo’ lil ole weasley turnip greens. (Silence)
MATT BRAZZLE.
Sister Roberts is en town agin! If she was mine, I’ll be hen-fired if I wouldn’t break her down in de lines (loins)—good as dat man is to her!
HAMBO.
I wish she was mine jes’ one day—de first time she open her mouf to beg anybody, I’d lam her wid lightning.
JOE CLARK.
I God, Jake Roberts buys mo’ rations out dis store than any man in dis town. I don’t see to my Maker whut she do wid it all…. Here she come….
(ENTER MRS. JAKE ROBERTS, a heavy light brown woman with a basket on her arm. A boy about ten walks beside her carrying a small child about a year old straddle of his back. Her skirts are sweeping the ground. She walks up to the step, puts one foot upon the steps and looks forlornly at all the men, then fixes her look on JOE CLARK.)
MRS. ROBERTS.
Evenin’, Brother Mayor.
CLARK.
Howdy do, Mrs. Roberts. How’s yo’ husband?
MRS. ROBERTS.
(Beginning her professional whine): He ain’t much and I ain’t much and my chillun is poly. We ain’t got ’nough to eat! Lawd, Mr. Clark, gimme a lil piece of side meat to cook us a pot of greens.
CLARK.
Aw gwan, Sister Roberts. You got plenty bacon home. Last week Jake bought….
MRS. ROBERTS.
(Frantically) Lawd, Mist’ Clark, how long you think dat lil piece of meat last me an’ my chillun? Lawd, me and my chillun is hongry! God knows, Jake don’t fee-eed me!