Phyllis hesitated: “No, I don’t speck she is; dat is, ef she is, her ’ligion done wash it all out, ’caze yo’ ma think’ mo’ ’bout ev’ybody else ’fo’ she do herse’f,—but you got er pig side, an’ ef you don’t take keer hit’ll grow ter be er hog side, too, dat you nuv’r is ter git nuff manners ter hide neither. Come on an’ go finish yo’ dinner, boy, an’ let Mammy eat her’n.”
VI
NED DOG AND BILLY GOAT
Phyllis was dozing on the top step of the side veranda while little Willis, in the gravel walk below, was playing with a Noah’s Ark. The animals were in grand parade when one of them met with an accident. Willis thought a moment, then, taking the loose ends of a string tied to one of the fuzzy toys, he climbed the steps to where Phyllis had just fallen in a peaceful nod against the pillar. He clumsily slipped the string between her open lips, and, with a slap and sputter, Mammy opened her eyes.
“Name er de Lawd, boy, whut is you tryin’ ter do?”
“I want you ter be er billy goat.”
“You wants sumthin’ I nuv’r is ter be. I’m willin’ ter be er hoss an’ on er pinch I’ll be er mule, but dey ain’t no time I’m willin’ ter be no ole billy goat fur nobody.”
“Please, Mammy,” laying a hand on her cheek in an effort to pull her face to him, “m’ billy goat’s got his legs broke, an’ I won’t have any goat if you don’t be one.”