Not satisfied with the simple luxury of eggplant stuffed with shrimp and tomato, seasoned with onion, thyme, parsley and red pepper, macerated with milk and butter, Felo had added the epicurean garnish of rolled toast and grated sapsago cheese. The yam potatoes, crowned with an aureole of golden-brown marshmallows, looked like an arrangement of autumn leaves mottled with sunshine; and Mr. Amos found himself wondering if it were not a bowl of delectable vegetables masquerading as a delicious dessert. The pork chops were smothered in a rich tomato gravy flavored with cloves and lemon peel; a tempting ragout, which Felo assured Mr. Amos, as he placed before him a plate of hot biscuits just out of the oven, “sho will make you rear back an’ smack yo’ lips manful, after you done sopped some o’ dese light biscuits in dis good ole-time Creyall gravy.”
Knowing that Felo at all times looked for more active proof than simple words of praise in appreciation of his culinary efforts, Mr. Amos endeavored to “perish” and “destroy” as much as was humanly possible. Because Felo was most pleased when he saw people “eat good”; and “et like dey bin use to good eatin’.” Feeling that “a dinner table full o’ empty plates an’ dishes was cert’ny mo’ convincin’ den a whole lot o’ col’ overs settin’ up in de ’frigerator.”
When Mr. Amos finished his coffee, he went upstairs to lie down, leaving Felo to “scuffle wid his pots an’ make quick tracks for Gritny.” It was not long before the kitchen boomed with the happy chorus of “De ole sheep done knowed de road”; every now and then a broken cadence floating off through the house like the sound of jubilation:
“My brother, ain’t you got yo’ counts all sealed?
De young lambs mus’ find de way.
You better git ’um ready ’fore you leave dis field;
De young lambs mus’ find de way.”
It was a pleasant sound, and Mr. Amos delayed reading his book as long as the singing continued. As soon as there was silence in the kitchen, he knew that Felo was dressing, and that it would not be long until he was on his way across the river to Gussie’s wake.
