Felo looked puzzled and annoyed, and scowled at Lethe, wondering at her amusement. What did Lizzie mean? He asked her impatiently. Did she think he came there to waste time and listen to a whole lot of riddles and humbug?... He wasn’t no chillun.... If she wanted to talk, why didn’t she talk plain and natchal; and not try to talk a mouth full of mystery nobody wasn’t able to ’lucidate....
“Dey ain’ got no myst’ry ’bout Chester goin’ ’way from hyuh, Mr. Felo,” Lizzie explained quietly. “I sont de boy ’way from hyuh; an’ I know de place whah he gone to. An’ dey ain’ nobody else but Lizzie Cole to be helt ’sponsible for de boy welfare, w’en de time come for givin’ ’count on Chester Frackshun disa’pyunce out o’ Gritny.... So sen’ ’um to me, w’en dey wan’ ax queshtun an’ find out somh’n.... I ain’t ’fraid to face ’um.”
“Who dat you got to face ’bout Chester goin’ away?” Felo asked quickly.
“All dem parties an’ parties settin’ up in de cou’t-house, try’n to play smart,” Lizzie answered.
“W’at thing dis Chester done commit, you gotta worry ’bout people in de cou’t-house callin’ on you?” Felo asked with eager surprise.
“’Tain’ nothin’ Chester did,—’zac’ly speakin’,” Lizzie went on to explain. It was the things the white folks might come to do if they heard that Chester was under suspicion.... Because he had already runned up on danger two times: with all these niggers blabbin’ about the way ole Unc’ Peesah died. And about the needle Tempe got from Chester the night before the old man passed out. Then come Unc’ Nat, spreadin’ the news that Chester was the one that left the well open at the corner the night Tempe got drownded, makin’ it look like the boy wanted to get her out of the way to stop any more talk about the fatal needle.... Who? No indeed.... She wasn’t goin’ to leave a poor simple motherless boy like Chester stay home alone when she went to the sugar-grindin’, so the white folks could come and land him up in jail; when he was just natchally innocent and helpless.... ’Specially when that man lookin’ after the light on the Morgan road, had come to her the mawnin’ after Gussie was runned over; inquirin’ what time it was when Chester come home the night before; and if he seen the switch light burnin’ when he went ’cross the Green.... Tryin’ to make it look like Chester had somh’n to do with bein’ mixed-up in how Gussie come to be runned over by a switch engine....
“Lawd, Lizzie! Go ’way from hyuh,” Lethe exclaimed aghast. “You ain’ never tol’ me dat befo’.”
“W’at you said to de man?” Felo asked, greatly concerned.
“I say: Who you mean, Chester Frackshun?... I say: Dis de place he live; but he ain’ bin home hyuh for over a week.... I say: Chester yonder ’cross de lake, workin’ in a saw mill on Blind River. An’ I know he ain’ seen no kind o’ switch light yonder in dat swampy lonesome country.”