Ef I could on’y think. Had hit in de bank—felt hit an’ had it on Thu’d Street—slapped hit an’ had it at Joe’s house—slapped hit an’ had it comin’ up de alley—jes’ fo’ I clum de hill—lemme see—clum de hill—went in th’oo Wilson Byrd’s hedge fence—he gimme de guitar—scrape my back comin’ out— [His face shows gradual recollection, and suddenly brightens.] I knows now! Dat’s hit! In dat white man’s yard wheah he gimme de guitar! I wuz jes’ goin’ to give him de money when somebody grabbed him f’um behin’. He give a squawk an’ skeered me. I run out th’oo his hedge fence an’ scrape my back. I scrape de pocketbook out. She’s dere! In dat Wilson Byrd’s yard. I’ll git it yit. Watch me. [He grabs his hat and runs excitedly toward the door.]
Lucy
[Rushing toward him.] No, sumpin’ might happen. You might git mix up wif him ergin. Lemme go, but I mus’ resto’ dis guitar at Uncle Williams, as I go by his house. I’ll slip it on his porch. Maybe he’ll neveh know it wuz gone. Oh, if somebody had seen it heah! How could I have stood it?
[She puts on a shawl and takes up the bag but as she lays her hand on the door-knob a loud knock is heard on the door. Both start back and wait. The knocking is repeated. She throws off the shawl, places the bag in a corner and returning to the door, opens it. She greets the visitor in a strained voice, almost with a shriek.]
Uncle Williams! Step in, please.
[A man enters. The newcomer is old, with white hair and beard. He is probably of Moorish descent. He is so small and weazened as to be almost a dwarf, but his whole demeanor indicates great latent power. A strong personality, dominating the two others from the first instant.]
Williams
Good evenin’, Lucy.
[He seems to be unaware of the presence of Madison. He comes forward with little mincing steps and an old man’s gesture, then takes off his hat and sees about him. The others stand watching him, transfixed.]
Ain’ you goin’ shut de do’, Lucy? I feels draf’s. I’m gittin’ old an’ catches cold easy. Ain’ you goin’ take my hat? [She reaches for it mechanically, watching him apprehensively.] No, de hat—not de stick—ol’ pu’son like me always need good stout stick er club case er havin’ faintin’ spell—sumpin’ to lean on. Now, wheah a cheer, bettah fetch me er cheer fo’ feah I might set on sumpin’ you wouldn’ choose fo’ me. [She obeys dumbly and brings a chair to him.] Set it neareh. Dat’s right. Now gimme youah shouldeh an’ ease me down. Ah— [He leans heavily on her and sinks totteringly into the chair with a great show of feebleness.] Now take a cheer yo’se’f. I ’spize to see a lady standin’ an’ me takin’ my res’, old ez I is. [She obeys, watching him with doubt and dread.] Set it dah, wheah I can see you good. [Madison is standing up by the wall, right, gazing at him as though paralyzed with fear.] Dah now. We kin be ca’m and have a nice talk. Does you know what business I come yere fo’ tonight? [He pauses.] You does, doesn’t you?