Mr. Felo had to excuse her, Lizzie informed him politely; but she just natchally couldn’t trust no ’ceitful niggers, any more than she could trust some of the white folks.... ’Specially white folks like some of them shoo-fly offsprings they had sittin’ up in the court house....
“But who is you, in de name o’ Gawd?” Lethe asked in a surprised voice, looking at her quietly and speaking very slowly. “Settin’ hyuh talkin’ ’bout niggers bein’ ’ceitful,—wid all dis mighty ’thawity to criticize yo’ own color?... You ain’ ’ceitful, is you?... Scandalizin’ w’ite folks you done growed up wid; w’en you oughta be proud to give ’um respec’ for all de ’sistance you got from ’um in de needed time.... Gawd knows, Lizzie, you sho oughta be shame to make little o’ yo’ Gritny people like dat.”
“Leave Lizzie ’lone, an’ quit talkin’, Lethe; an’ le’s go yonder to Gussie wake whah things is peaceful,” Felo suggested with sudden abruptness. “Lizzie ain’ bin use to nothin’, no-how; an’ da’s w’at make her so scawnful ’bout de w’ite folks. She jus’ like de res’ o’ dese po’ ignun niggers, ain’ got no inher’tunce.”
What kind of inheritance did some of the white folks sittin’ up in the court house have? Lizzie wanted to know. Did Mr. Felo ever take notice how many of the people holdin’ high office in the court house, ain’t been connected with nothin’ but cows, one generation to another?... Who?... She could look back long as she knowed, and could tell about the time when their gramma and grampa went grassin’ ’long-side the railroad track with a wheel-barrow.... And the many times she seen their parents pushin’ cows to the pasture back and forth.... And right now, she could call the name of plenty of them drawin’ pay from the court house, what was makin’ extra change, sellin’ cream cheese and buttermilk from the cows they had in their yard.... And was that kind o’ practice-habit the thing Mr. Felo wanted to call inheritance?... Who? She asked him, laughing with great amusement.... A grass sickle, cows, and some cream cheese moulds wasn’t nothin’ she could see to make people set up and put on airs like folks what comed from a family of ’ridginy people....
“But w’at all dis hist’ry got to do wid Chester goin’ away from Gritny?” Felo asked with eager curiosity.
It had plenty to do with it; Lizzie assured him. She was sharp enough to know what would happen if people kept on talkin’ about Chester and Tempe and the needle and the fatal switch engine; tryin’ to make him answer for somethin’ when he wasn’t guilty.... No indeed. She wasn’t goin’ to take no fool chances with court-house people she knowed so good.... White folks what always bin used to somh’n, never was hard on niggers; even way back in Reb’-time days. And anybody ever bin had any traffic with them could tell you the same thing.... And Mr. Felo could ask his Ma Fanny, and find out for himself she wasn’t tellin’ no lie. ’Cause all the people along the coast knowed the hist’ry about the Derbignys and the Garderes and the De Gruy family, and some them yuther plantation people what always had somh’n; and how they was good to their cullud folks.... Even today....
“But who wan’ put inny pennunce in shoo-fly people an’ off-springs?” She asked indignantly. “No indeed, Lawd! Not Lizzie Cole.... No matter if her father is a preacher o’ de gospel, an’ tries to make her b’lieve she gotta love her neighbor like she love herself.... Who? Mr. Felo think she goin’ study ’bout givin’ people love an’ trus’, w’en she look back an’ ain’ see nothin’ behin’ ’um but a ginneration o’ cattle an’ cows?” ...
“An’ you ain’ goin’ leave none yo’ own color know whah Chester gone to?” Felo asked.
No. Lizzie answered positively. She had passed her hand ’cross her mouth, and wasn’t goin’ to say nothin’ to nobody till she came back from the grindin’ after Christmas, with a pocket full of money.... Then she would bring Chester back to the castle yonder ’cross the pasture, and spread joy for all the hongry niggers in the East Green.... But now that she had the boy out of danger,
she was goin’ to Lafoosh to have a good time, with Scilla and Nookie and Carmelite and Pinkey, and all the other wimmins that said they were goin’.... Soongy said she was countin’ on goin’, if she could fix it so Dink could stay at Aunt Fisky’s house till she come back.... Now that Gussie was gone, Dink would be a good help to Aunt Fisky; runnin’ to the groc’ry and washin’ dishes and ’tendin’ to her ducks and things. ’Cause Soongy cert’ny had raised Dink handy and nice.
“But none y’all ain’ goin’ to Gussie funeyul tomorrow?” Lethe asked her dubiously.