SISTER THOMAS I better go put dese greens on—my husband will kill me if he don't find no supper ready. Here come Mrs. Blunt. She oughter feel like a penny's worth of have-mercy wid all dis stink behind her daughter.
SISTER TAYLOR Chile, some folks don't keer. They don't raise they chillen, they drags 'em up. God knows if dat Daisy was mine, I'd throw her down and put a hundred lashes on her back wid a plow-line. Here she come in de store Sat'day night (acts coy and coquettish, burlesques Daisy's walk) a wringing and a twisting!
(Enter Mrs. Blunt left.)
MRS. BLUNT
How y'all sisters?
SISTER THOMAS
Very well, Miz Blunt, how you?
MRS. BLUNT
Oh so-so.
SISTER TAYLOR
I'm kickin' but not high.
MRS. BLUNT
Well, thank God you still on prayin' ground and in a Bible
Country—Me, I ain't many today. De niggers got my Daisy's name all
mixed up in diss mess.
SISTER TAYLOR
You musn't mind dat, Sister Blunt. People just will talk. They's
talkin' in New York and they's talkin' in Georgy and they's talkin' in
Italy.
SISTER THOMAS Chile, if you talk after niggers they'll have you in de graveyard or in Chattahoochee one. You can't pay no tention to talk.