On reaching home in the evening, Mr. Amos was somewhat surprised to find all the windows and doors open and lights burning in all the rooms, seeming to anticipate the arrival of some friendly guest. The table was set for one person, and the pots on the kitchen stove gave evidence that everything was ready for the evening meal; but Felo was not in sight. Going to the kitchen door, Mr. Amos found him in the back yard, quietly hoeing his little hill of snap-beans, growing along the side fence; so intent upon his gardening that he was not aware of being watched until Mr. Amos spoke; inquiring what all the illuminations meant, and if he were expecting anybody.
“Nobody but you,” Felo told him placidly. “Lessen somebody comin’ hyuh unbeknownce.”
“Then, why all the lights?” Mr. Amos faltered.
“Man, go inside an’ set to de table; an’ don’ be so hard to please,” Felo went on. “W’at dey is wrong, you can’ come home now an’ den, an’ fin’ de house lookin’ like things givin’ you welcome, aft’ a hard day struggle?... If dis yo’ resident, an’ de place whah you look to find yo’ peace an’ comfut; I ain’ see how you gotta think ’bout makin’ a whole lot o’ extra show for out-side people, an’ don’ wan’ make none for yo’-own self.... ’Specially w’en you cunsider you ain’ got so long to enjoy yo’ life; an’ dey ain’ nobody to ’preshate de place no better’n you an’ me.... Go set down, for Gawd sake. An’ don’ try to make me feel any wusser’n I feel already.... Disappointed like I bin today wid people I sho thought I could count on....”
What could have happened to bring on a mood like this? Mr. Amos wondered. Did anything go wrong at the wake or the funeral? “I thought you would come home bubbling over with news, and couldn’t wait to tell what you saw,” he said to Felo, as he came in from the yard and began making ready to serve dinner.
He didn’t feel like talkin’, Felo answered. He had to look after them snap-beans, and twist them around the cane-reed poles he brought from home; before the wind broke all the runners and fixed them so they wouldn’t make no beans; after all the bother he had with them, waterin’ and ’tendin’ them like he did every evenin’....
“So set down an’ eat, an’ don’ plague me,” he said, appealingly. “Evvything hyuh on de table for you. An’ if you want somh’n, I’ll be right hyuh in de yard, an’ you kin call me.... Da’s alright?” He asked hesitatingly.
“Go on,” Mr. Amos told him with an amused smile. “Maybe the fresh air will revive you; and later on you’ll be more sociable.”
He didn’t need no fresh air to revive his feelin’s; Felo argued with himself as he worked with his beans. Wasn’t he out in the fresh air nearly all day? But that didn’t keep him from gittin’ down-casted. Even with music playin’, and the Peefus members marchin’ back and forth around Gussie’s tomb, callin’ out to the devil and beatin’ him off with their battle axes. And with the people singin’ and talkin’ and goin’ on like they did.... Excitement ain’t had nothin’ to do with his feelin’s bein’ upset. It was what people did to him that made him feel troubled in his mind.... Just like Mr. Amos thinkin’ he wasn’t sociable. Somebody onsociable was ’most as bad as somebody what wasn’t no Chrishtun.... He went on ruminating.
What make Mr. Amos think he ain’t sociable, after he done come back from Gritny plumb disgusted with evvything; glad to git home where he could look over his mind peaceful, when he was doin’ his cookin’ and tryin’ to make things look nice and invitin’ to please nobody but him.... That wasn’t no way to talk to an ole-time fellow-servant, just because he ain’t ready to stretch his eyes and grin the minute somebody look at him.... It sho was disencouragin’.... Couldn’t Mr. Amos keep patience, and wait till he got through twistin’ them snap-beans? And finished up evvything in the kitchen, so he could talk to him free and light-minded, after both of them went upstairs?