Madison
[Moving toward him with the threatening determination of despair.] Say, I’ve got to have dat money. I sees red. I’m gone bad an’ I’ll kill befo’ I’ll lose hit.
[Williams suddenly turns with a swiftness and agility astounding in so old a man. Starting forward he confronts Madison with such dominance and fire that he seems suddenly to tower.]
Williams
You kill me! You tek money away from me! Why, you po’ grain er chaff, you don’ know me. I’m a king in my own right. I got ways an’ means er pertecktin’ myse’f dat you don’ even dream on an’ I don’ need to lay a fingeh on you to do hit. Furdermo’ I could brain you wif dis stick but ef you cross me I won’ be dat easy on you. Ef you don’ wan’ wuss’n dat don’ cross me no furder er youah troubles’ll begin fer fa’r.
Lucy
Oh, please don’ lay nothin’ on him.
Williams
You po’ sufferin’ gal, I won’ lay nothin’ onto ’im but I’m a-goin’ to tek sumpin’ off’n you. I’m goin’ tek de burding er dish yere pack er laziness off’n you. An’ fus’ I wants ter show you dish yere piece er papeh. [He produces a folded document and opens it.] Does yo’ know who wrote it? Answeh me. [He shoves the paper under Madison’s eye.]
Madison