“An’ w’en I open de stove-do’ an’ looked at ’um,—chile, de dishes was so wreckded, it took me three dish towels to pull out one plate.”
“You had good sense to go yonder to yo’ quilts,” Felo murmured in a humorous undertone.
“I was goin’ leave her any way, so dat ain’ bin de thing made me quit,” Carmelite answered, artlessly. “Miss Newgeem des natchally had too much shiftin’ o’ de dishes for de fewness o’ de vittuls; an’ I ain’ never bin used to eatin’ light.” At this reference to food, Susan became conscious of a sense of lax hospitality, whereupon she said: “Dey got plenny gumbo in dat pot you see stannin’ on de h’af; an’ plenny sweet potato pies yonder in de safe; so you ain’ need to feel strange ’bout breakin’ yo’ fas’—lessen you bin et heavy befo’ you come hyuh dis evenin’.”
The suggestion was opportune. Smiles of appreciation from one to the other showed that the invitation was agreeable to all.
Susan went to the safe and distributed plates to the women, and Nat and Felo began placing chairs around the table. She filled the plates with a generous portion of snowy rice and fragrant gumbo, and the women arranged them on the shining new oil cloth.
“Great-day-in-de-mawnin’!” Nat exclaimed. “Sis’ Susan, you sho spoons out dat gumbo wid a tantalizin’ scent! Set down, members, an’ smack yo’ lips; an’ Gawd bless de cook for de feas’ dis evenin’.”
They gathered about the table with lively interest and sat down and began eating. Uncle Foteen was sleeping quietly before the fire. Dink was sitting across the room, looking on with wistful glances, and making querulous music on the comb. On discovering his aloofness, Susan called to him: “Boy, put dat comb out yo’ han’, an’ come set to de table an’ eat yo’ vittuls. You ain’ hongry?”
Looking at her timidly, Dink answered:
“Yassam. But I come ’way from home in a hurry, an’ my haid ain’ comb’.”