“Number twenny-two!”
“Twenny-two blank like de yuther one,” Bennee answered with a tone of apparent surprise.
“You already done forgot w’at I tol’ you?” Duckery grumbled, fixing him with a menacing stare, before taking another slip from the hat.
“Number ninety-nine,” he boomed, looking at Bennee steadily.
“Dis’n ain’ blank!” Bennee called out joyfully. “Dis’n got somh’n wrote ’cross it, diffunt from all de yuther ones.”
“Number ninety-nine de prize!” Broke forth the excited chorus of soprano voices.... “Who number ninety-nine is, Carmelite?” they questioned. “Ninety-nine done win de quilt.... Innybody hyuh got ninety-nine for dey number?” They babbled. “Who ever ’tis picked ninety-nine for dey number, sho is lucky. Ain’t dey?” The comment went on; until Carmelite brought the list of names and looked to see whose name was written after the winning number.
“Lawd, people!” She exclaimed with delight. “Aun’ Fisky de one done win de quilt.... An’ I ain’ sorry, either. Bad as she needin’ cov’rins w’en de col’ weather come up on ’uh.”
“Some people sho is lucky,” declared Lethe.
“Not me,” Frozine informed her. “I ain’ never win nothin’ in my whole life.... An’ hyuh I comed thoo all dis mud an’ rain to witness Carmelite fine Jacob-ladder quilt go ’way from hyuh to lay ’cross somebody else bed.... Umph!”