"Morning, Nancy," she said. "You look mighty peak-ked dis morning."
"Hunh!" grunted Nancy, "I oughter. I bin to see de mayor. I say 'Mr. Mayor, here I is. I ain' got nuttin' to eat—it ain' right for a woman my age to beg food. Now what yer gwine do 'bout it?' De mayor say: 'Auntie, you go right down to de welfare office at de Court House and tell de lady I sont you to git somepin' to eat.' I done dat—dey promise to send a lady, but I ain' see no lady yit." A heavy sigh rolled out. "I didn' lef' skin of meat in my house or a piece of cornpone. But I didn' take nuttin' to heart 'cause de Lord is my helper."
The old woman sighed too. "Yeah, Nancy, das de way dey does. I ain' gwine keep nasty house for nobody. But white people's funny. Dey think if you got clean house and bleachin' sheets you mus' have somepin' to eat inside." She clenched her fist, and her voice rose. "I tells you right now—I gwine keep my house neat jus' like I bin taught, ef I never gits no somepin' t'eat and ain' got cornpone in de oven."
"A poor creeter come to my house today to beg for somepin' to eat," said Nancy, "I ain' got nuttin' and I tell her so. She say she gwine to de court-house too."
"T'won't do no good," answered the other woman. "Come over here, Nancy. I wants to talk to you."
With a dignified excuse, Nancy creaked to her long length and moved deliberately to the edge of the sidewalk. Whisperings followed, the voices of the two old women rising in their excitement.
"I ain' gwine into somepin' I don't know nuttin' about."
"Nobody gwine 'swade me either."
"My husband didn' put no composin' on me. If I don't git but one meal a day, I ain' gwine dirty. I didn' have mouthful t'eat in my house."
The interested eavesdropper decided that the welfare office had talked social security to the women instead of direct relief, and they were worried and suspicious about the matter. The old black woman was getting angrier and angrier.