AUNT CANDACE. [Taking out her snuff-box.] Huh, what's dat?
MARY. I don't look like a common nigger, do I?
AUNT CANDACE. Lawd bless you, chile, you's purty, you is. You's jes' as purty as any white folks. You's lak yo' mammy what's dead an' gone. Yessuh, you's her very spit an' image, 'ceptin' you's whiter. [Lowering her voice.] Yes, suh, 'ceptin' you's whiter. [They both look in the fire.] 'Bout time foh Jim to be comin', ain't it?
MARY. Yes'm, he'll be comin', I reckon. They ain't no gittin' away from him an' his guitar.
AUNT CANDACE. What you got agin Jim? Dey ain't no better nigger'n Jim. He's gwine treat you white, an' it's time you's gittin' married. I's done nussin' my fust chile at yo' age, my li'l Tom 'twas. Useter sing to 'im. [Pausing.] Useter sing to 'im de sweetest kin' o' chunes, jes' lak you, honey, jes' lak you. He's done daid an' gone do'. All my babies is. De Marster he call an' tuck 'em. An' 'druther'n let 'em labor an' sweat below, he gi'n 'em a harp an' crown up dere. Tuck my ol' man from 'is toil an' trouble, too, an' I's left heah alone now. Ain't gwine be long do', ain't gwine be long. [Her voice trails off into silence. All is quiet save for the ticking of the clock. Aunt Candace brushes her hand across her face, as if breaking the spell of her revery.] Yessuh, I wants you to git married, honey. I told you, an' told you. We's lived long enough by ourselves. I's lak to nuss yo' li'l uns an' sing to 'em fo' I go. Mind me o' de ol' times.
MARY. [Lost in abstraction, apparently has not been listening.] Aunty, you ought to see him now. He's better to me than he ever was. He's as kind as he can be. An' he wears the finest clothes! [She stares in the fire.
AUNT CANDACE. Dat he do. Dey ain't no 'sputin' of it. I allus said he's de best-lookin' nigger in de country. An' dey ain't nobody kinder'n Jim. No, suh.
MARY. An' to-day he said 'twas a pity I had to work an' wash like a slave for a livin'. He don' treat me like I was a nigger. He acts like I'm white folks. Aunty, you reckon ...
AUNT CANDACE. [Gazing at her with a troubled look of astonishment.] I knows it, honey, I knows it. Course dey ain't no better nigger'n Jim an' I wants you to marry Jim. He's awaitin' an' ...
MARY. [Vehemently.] I ain't talkin' 'bout Jim. What's Jim? He ain't nothin'.