AUNT CANDACE. Po'ly, po'ly, Mr. Mawgin. Ain't got much longer down here, ain't much longer.
MORGAN. [Laughing.] Aw come on, Candace, cut out your foolin'. You ain't half as bad off as you make out. [Jim moves his chair to the corner and sits down.] I understand you. If you'd git up from there an' go to work you'd be well in a week.
AUNT CANDACE. Oh, Lawd, Mr. Mawgin, I sho' is po'ly! I hopes you'll never have to suffer lak me.
[Mumbling, she shakes her head, rocks to and fro without taking her feet from the floor, punctuating her movements by tapping with her stick. Morgan sees Mary looking at the package.
MORGAN. That's for Mary. I was comin' down this way an' caught up with John. He said he was comin' here to bring it. An' so I took an' brought it, though he acted sort of queer about it, like he didn't want me even to save him a long walk. Wonder what that nigger can be givin' you. [Mary starts toward the bed.] No, you ain't goin' to see it now, gal. We got a little business to 'tend to first. Did you tell Candace what I said?
MARY. Mr. Morgan, how could I?... I couldn't do it, not to-night.
MORGAN. Uh-huh ... I knowed it. Knowed I'd better come down here an' make sure of it. Durn me, you been cryin', ain't you? [His voice softens.] What's the trouble, gal?
MARY. Nothin', nothin'. I ... I been tickled at Jim.
JIM. Tickled at Jim?
AUNT CANDACE. What does he say?