Mammie—Miss Lizzie, I just don' believe he know right from wrong.
Lizzie—Well, I gwine learn him den. Ain' nothin I despises worser den a story-teller. (Lizzie slaps Possum on the shoulder several times and sends him in the house to dry, shivering from both cold and fear.).
Lizzie—Miss Davis, Mr. John Fortune helps me out wonderfully wid dese chillun. Say, when dey bad, he gwine cook dem up en eat dem. Yes, mam, I tellin de truth, honey, dese chillun keeps me settin here listenin wid all my ears en lookin wid all my eyes, but dey is right sorta entertainin like. Yes'um, dey got so much of sense till dey done took what little I is had.
(Alfred comes running in and leans up on Lizzie).
Lizzie—Clean up dat snotty nose, Alfred. You ought to been name Snotty wid your mouth all de time lookin like you ain' hear tell of no pocket rag. Move way from dere, June. Don' blow your nose settin side Miss Davis.
Date, February 10, 1938
III
It is three days later. Lizzie is sitting on her little porch enjoying the warm sunshine of a bright February day. The children have gone just across the street to play on the sidewalk and while Lizzie keeps a watchful eye on them, she is trying once more to call back to her mind some of the old time songs that she used to sing in her early days. Her visitor sits on a bench nearby ready to make notes of these old songs as she sings them. Lizzie's attention is not only distracted by the children at intervals but also by different ones of her friends constantly passing along the street in front of the small home.
Lizzie—Lord, Miss Davis, look like everything a hustlin dis mornin. Yes'um, dis here Monday mornin en everybody is a bustlin gwine to see bout dey business. Seems like everything just gwine on, just gwine on. I tell you de truth, Miss Davis, I studied so hard bout dem songs de other night, I beg de Massa to show me de light en he hop me to recollect dis one for you. See, when you gets to de age I is, you is foolish—
(Joseph runs across the street to tell Lizzie something).