“Y’all better stop talkin’ to one-’nother so plain. Firs’ thing you know, you goin’ be sorry.”
Almost immediately she became aware that her fears were needless; for she heard outside the sound of voices mingled with the drone of weird music played on a comb covered with tissue paper; and she knew that other members had arrived.
The new-comers were Carmelite and Soongy, two pleasant-looking, neatly-dressed young colored women; accompanied by a light brown-skin boy about fourteen years old, known to every one as Dink, the comb-player. He was a merry-faced, accommodating young troubadour, willing to lend his talent on any chance occasion; making his ravishing music on the comb for the sheer love of the thing itself, and the simple reward of a “plate full o’ vittuls an’ a cup o’ somh’n-’nother to drink.”
Soongy was his aunt, and was extravagantly proud of his musical ability. “Dink ain’ no master min’ by no means”; she would say, when speaking of his attainments, “but he sho got it all in his head. An’ nobody ain’ learned him, either.”
Dink’s repertoire was a remarkable one. It included all the “himes” and mellows and “Dr. Watts” sung by the Baptist and Methodist congregations, reaching from “Wes’wego ferry landin’, clean down de coas’ to Gritny in de Eas’ Green”; all the “ballets” and “sinful songs” disseminated by “backsliders” and “evil-workers”; and many haunting fragments of “make-up songs,” the invention of Dick’s harmonious mind.
His voice, whether used for singing, or for making music through the comb, was true and melodious; having the clear, sensuous timbre of adolescence that won the admiration of his most orthodox listeners. “De Sperret goin’ stop his shoo-fly ways one dese days; an’ den dey ain’ goin’ be nobody kin tetch him raisin’ his voice to give Gawd de praise he done helt back for so long;” the old church members would comment, after having listened to some of the “shoo-fly ballets.”
After friendly greetings were exchanged all around, and the new arrivals were seated comfortably, Susan asked Carmelite:
“W’at you doin’ on dis side de river tonight? You ain’ give up yo’ place to Miss Newgeem house, is you?”
“Yas ma’am,” Carmelite answered languidly. “I bin lef’ her a long time.”