If there were two particular forms of divertissement equally cherished by every dweller of the East Green and thereabouts, perhaps the one holding second place would be the fine funeral following a nice wake. Granting this, it was easy to understand why Gussie’s obsequies seemed to offer something of more than ordinary importance. Being a white man, and an outcast among his own color; and a man without religion, and therefore counted a lost soul among his church-going colored companions; they were deeply concerned about how he would be “put away with any right kind of form and fashion.” ... Who could they get to preach his funeral if the colored elder didn’t want to come?... Maybe Aunt Fisky would get the white folks to bring the priest to say prayers and swing smoke over Gussie and sprinkle him with holy water?...
Conjectural comment was at its height when Felo arrived. And curious to know the full particulars, like all the other members present, he asked Aunt Fisky if she had done anything regarding the funeral ceremonies. She told him quietly that she didn’t want any priest or revyun of any kind to come up in her house.... She wasn’t no hypocrite.... Everybody in Gritny knew that Gussie never was no church member.... And now that Gussie was ’ceased, there wasn’t no use for any elder to stand up and preach about his sinful ways.... It couldn’t help Gussie none. And what good would it do anybody else?... They ain’t got to tell Gawd about it; ’cause Gawd already knowed what Gussie was. So He didn’t have to listen to a whole lot o’ random.... And besides, she didn’t believe in rakin’-up people’s wrong-doin’ after they gone. The members could sing over Gussie much as they pleased. And the man from the Peefus Lodge could say the Ow Father and read something out his book. And that’s all she cared about.... And she was goin’ to see that they did it, too.... Gussie had dragged on long enough with a whole lot o’ racket and confusion. So she made up her mind that she was goin’ to see him go ’way from this earth quiet and respectable.... She wasn’t goin’ to find no fault ’bout havin’ a brass band; ’cause she knowed Gussie always liked music and was too proud to walk behind a purrade. So, if people cared anything at all about her and Gussie feelin’s, she cert’ny would look to see them respect her wishes in this lonesome interprise....
Felo said he would tell everyone present, and promised to see that her wishes would be obeyed. He went over to talk to Carmelite, where she was sitting in a corner, looking very dejected. She shook hands with him and listened silently as he repeated what Aunt Fisky had told him.
“An’ you sho kin count on me, Mr. Felo, to help you make dese niggers do de right thing,” Carmelite assured him feelingly.
“You goin’ set up all night?” Felo asked her.
“Sho Gawd is,” she declared with fervor. “Bad as I feel; I’m goin’ stay right hyuh, an’ fix de coffee an’ do all I kin, befo’ I go home to my house.”
“W’a’s de matter?” Felo asked wonderingly. “You ain’ sick, is you?”
No; she wasn’t ’zacly sick; Carmelite told him. She was jus’ feelin’ down-casted.... Sittin’ there an’ lookin’ at Gussie, an’ callin’ back to her mind what took place to her house last night.... Gussie eatin’ up all her duck-egg cake with nobody but himself, yonder in her kitchen.... And hyuh a whole crowd o’ people come to eat crackers and coffee over Gussie; and he layin there on the table and ain’t knowin’ a thing ’bout what was goin’ on....
“An’ lookin’ so natchal, too. Widout any puttin’-on a-tall,” came Frozine’s sympathetic comment.