“Who?” Lizzie exclaimed, greatly surprised at the question. “You ain’ think Lizzie goin’ run to de country careless, an’ leave a fine brass ban’ behind her, like dey say dey goin’ have tootin’ music in front o’ Gussie, is you?... No indeed.... Lizzie too crazy ’bout music to go ’way from hyuh till after dey done put Gussie away an’ all de purrade over. Den she kin git on de train wid happy membunce o’ Gussie, an’ go to de grindin’ well pleased.”
If the band of music was the only thing leadin’ Lizzie to stay over to go to the funeral, she ought to be more decent and not tell it; Felo reprimanded, batting his eyelids crossly. If she didn’t want to give any respect to Gussie, she ought to stay at home, and not play hypocrite so brazen before a whole crowd of people, right in front of Aunt Fisky’s face.
She never did care nothin’ for ole no-nation Gussie; Lizzie told him frankly. And she didn’t have respect to study about. But a brass band was a diffunt queshtun.... Goin’ to the funeral wasn’t the main part she had to consider. It was comin’ back, dancin’ to the music, all the way from the graveyard to the Gritny ferry-boat.... Who?... That was enough to make her don’t care if she missed forty Morgan trains goin’ to the grindin’.... Everybody knowed how all them Gritny niggers would come skippin’ and prancin’ up Main Street, when they heard that brass band commence soundin’ them teasin’ blues.... And if they just started playin’ “O Didn’t He Ramble,”—she cert’ny knowed there wasn’t nothin’ goin’ to keep her from shakin’ her fool-self to a fraz’lin finish....
“Lethe!” Felo exclaimed, exasperated; rolling his eyes ominously. “You sit hyuh quiet, an’ listen at dis Hell-bound ooman talk like dat, an’ ain’ say nothin’ to ’uh?... Git up from hyuh an’ come on, if you goin’ wid me to Gussie wake tonight. An’ leave Lizzie hyuh to do like de devil lead ’uh to do.... ’Cause I done los’ all patience wid ’uh. An’ I know Gawd ain’ goin’ bother wid ’uh.... So come on!”
“You goin’ to de wake?” Lethe asked her, getting up and reaching for her shawl, hanging on a nail behind the door.
“No,” Lizzie answered, smiling placidly. “You go ’head an’ take yo’ pleasure wid Mr. Felo, yonder munks de Chrishtuns. I’m goin’ stay hyuh for a li’l w’ile an’ make me some weak coffee, if you don’ mind.... But I’ll sho meet you tomorrow, dancin’ in de road, comin’ back; befo’ I take de train in de evenin’ for Lafoosh plantation.”
Lethe told her to make herself at home, and started for the front door with Felo following her, his eyes fixed on Lizzie with a glowering look.
“Good night, Mr. Felo,” she called to him in a derisive tone. “An’ I hope Gawd take care o’ yo’ th’oat w’en you singin’ over Gussie so bol’ an’ manful, yonder munks de Chrishtuns.”
