“Ain’ Tom know it never was Bell practice habit to th’ow trash water in de front yard?... Comin’ clean th’oo de house to de front do’ to empty a dishpan o’ scaldin’ water? Shucks! Tom des natchally childish.”
“You sho is right,” agreed Felo. “I ain’ never like Bell from de firs’ beginnin’. I ain’ trus’ no ooman w’at got side-b’yeards growin’ ’long-side her jaws like Bell got. Da’s a bad sign.”
And so the comment continued for weeks among Tom’s friends wherever they met.
After the bandage was removed from Tom’s eyes, the doctor told him that he was hopelessly blind. His face took on a look of sudden despair, and in a pleading tone, he said:
“Please suh, doctor, don’ joke me in my mis’ry.”
No one spoke. After a few seconds, Susan took hold of his hand, her affectionate grasp, more eloquent than any spoken word, revealing to him the awful truth of the doctor’s statement.
“Sweet man, Jesus,” he exclaimed, raising his head imploringly; “please tell me w’at po’ Tom goin’ do!”
“You goin’ go home wid Susan, an’ set in yo’ chair yonder ’fo de fire,” came the soft-toned, comforting reply. “An’ Susan goin’ look aft’ you des like she did befo’.”
Then leading him by the hand, they left the doctor’s office and started up the coast towards home.
Bell was tried before a jury, but as there was no available witness to give testimony in the case, she was acquitted as innocent and ordered by the court to go back to Georgia. “Back to de wilderness, whah she b’lonks.” As Tom’s friends declared, with picturesque indignation.