Flattered with having the honor of being the first one to acquaint Felo with the startling account of Gussie’s death, Lethe lost no time in hurrying to Miss Barbara’s grocery store to communicate with him by telephone. She knew that Felo would just be giving Mr. Amos his breakfast; that it would be the best time to catch him at home, before he went out to market. She was sure that he had not heard from anyone about Tempe’s drowning; so she would tell him all the particulars, and all about the funeral which was to take place that day; and maybe Felo would come over to Gretna early, and they would have a little visit at her house before they went to the graveyard.
Such astounding news from home so early in the morning, served to arouse Felo’s excitable temperament to unrestrained emotional flights. Mr. Amos sat drinking his coffee, listening to Felo’s exclamations of surprise, waiting patiently for the conversation to end.
When Lethe finished her long harangue, Felo hung up the receiver nervously and came into the dining-room, his eyes staring with a startled expression.
“Dah bless Gawd!” he exclaimed; taking a seat across the room, near the kitchen door. “I ain’ never knowed it to fail; long as I kin remember,” he went on, with a sweeping gesture of the right arm. “Evvy time you see me dream ’bout fresh meat, you sho find out it ain’ goin’ be mo’n a day pass by, befo’ I hyeah tell ’bout somebody done died.... An’ now I bin had a dream ’bout fresh meat, dis make three nights successful, han’-runnin’.... An’ hyuh come de news from Lethe dis mawnin’, ’bout two mo’ people done passed out, yonder in Gritny....”
“Never mind your dreams,” Mr. Amos interrupted with an amused smile. “Tell me who’s dead. And you can think about your fresh meat afterwards.”
“Go ’head, an’ laugh much as you please,” Felo answered, a trifle provoked. “Y’all w’ite folks jus’ alike.... All time ready to laugh at somh’n you don’ un’stan....”
“Well, let us hear what Lethe had to say, and maybe I will be better able to interpret your dream,” Mr. Amos encouraged him.
“Da’s de very thing I wan’t tell you. If you only keep still, an’ stop ty’in’ up my pro-gress wid so many on-nec’sary queshtun,” he remonstrated playfully; eager to recount Lethe’s sensational chronicle of disaster.