“Ain’t it true,” agreed Mozella. “For a man bin cut half-in-two like he is, Gussie sho do look natchal.”
“An’ ain’ he got a nice pale color?” remarked Soongy.
“Sho is,” declared Nookie. “I ain’ never took notice till now, how pale Gussie complexion.”
“Look like Death done bleached his skin mo’ lighter,” Carmelite reflected pensively.
“An’ Gussie sho look like somebody diffunt, layin’ up there strouded in dem purrade clo’se he got on,” said Pinkey, taking a seat along-side of Carmelite.
At sight of Aunt Fisky coming in from the back room, all comment ceased for a while. She came over where the women were sitting, and gave Carmelite a pan full of orange leaves, asking her to pin them on the sheet “droped” over the table where Gussie was lying. Carmelite and several of the women got down on their knees and began pinning the orange leaves on the sheet, making a border in the form of a cross all around the bier.
At length, a low mournful humming began to tremble in the room as the women went on with their work in the dim weird light from the flickering candles, standing in bottles on the mantelpiece and on the table at Gussie’s head and feet.
Before long the old house was vibrating to the rolling sound of
“Didn’t my Lawd deliver Daniel,