“One ole lady dey calls Aun’ Milly,” Lethe informed her. “Sis’ Amy Hollan’ Ma. Come fum Peach Awchud, yonder to Bayou Bah-tah-yuh.”
“W’en de ole lady died?” Lizzie asked.
“Gawd knows, Lizzie,” she went on, “I ain’ never got de straight ’bout de thing. You know, Aun’ Amy bin drunk for mos’ a week, an’ nobody ain’ bin able to git de right news fum ’uh.”
“An’ dey bring de ole lady all de way from Peach Awchud hyuh, to sing ove’ ’uh?” Lizzie asked, half-playfully.
“Lizzie, don’ ply me wid a whole lot o’ queshtun I ain’ able to answer. All I know, I’m goin’ tell you, if you wan’ lissen.”
“Come set hyuh an’ talk ’bout it,” Chester suggested, leading them to a bench in the corner and sitting down. “Now, go ’head.”
“Well, you know,” Lethe began again, “me an’ my brether Booguloo took a skiff soon dis mawnin’, an’ went down Harvey Cunnal to see my cousin Dootsy, cookin’ yonder at de camp for dem mens pickin’ moss to Li’l Coquille bayou.”
“How much a pound dey gits for black moss, Lethe?” inquired Chester, interrupting her story.
“Boy, shet yo’ mouf!” Lizzie commanded sharply. “Lethe ain’ talkin’ ’bout sellin’ no moss. She talkin’ ’bout de ole lady call Aun’ Milly,—layin’ yonder ’ceasded. (Deceased.) Don’t you hyeah ’um singin’ ove’ ’uh? Shet up, an’ lissen.”
Seeing Chester offer no argument to Lizzie’s rebuke, Lethe resumed her story.