On reaching home in the evening, Mr. Amos was somewhat surprised to find all the windows and doors open and lights burning in all the rooms, seeming to anticipate the arrival of some friendly guest. The table was set for one person, and the pots on the kitchen stove gave evidence that everything was ready for the evening meal; but Felo was not in sight. Going to the kitchen door, Mr. Amos found him in the back yard, quietly hoeing his little hill of snap-beans, growing along the side fence; so intent upon his gardening that he was not aware of being watched until Mr. Amos spoke; inquiring what all the illuminations meant, and if he were expecting anybody.
On reaching home in the evening, Mr. Amos was somewhat surprised to find all the windows and doors open and lights burning in all the rooms, seeming to anticipate the arrival of some friendly guest. The table was set for one person, and the pots on the kitchen stove gave evidence that everything was ready for the evening meal; but Felo was not in sight. Going to the kitchen door, Mr. Amos found him in the back yard, quietly hoeing his little hill of snap-beans, growing along the side fence; so intent upon his gardening that he was not aware of being watched until Mr. Amos spoke; inquiring what all the illuminations meant, and if he were expecting anybody.
“Nobody but you,” Felo told him placidly. “Lessen somebody comin’ hyuh unbeknownce.”
“Then, why all the lights?” Mr. Amos faltered.
“Man, go inside an’ set to de table; an’ don’ be so hard to please,” Felo went on. “W’at dey is wrong, you can’ come home now an’ den, an’ fin’ de house lookin’ like things givin’ you welcome, aft’ a hard day struggle?... If dis yo’ resident, an’ de place whah you look to find yo’ peace an’ comfut; I ain’ see how you gotta think ’bout makin’ a whole lot o’ extra show for out-side people, an’ don’ wan’ make none for yo’-own self.... ’Specially w’en you cunsider you ain’ got so long to enjoy yo’ life; an’ dey ain’ nobody to ’preshate de place no better’n you an’ me.... Go set down, for Gawd sake. An’ don’ try to make me feel any wusser’n I feel already....Disappointed like I bin today wid people I sho thought I could count on....”
What could have happened to bring on a mood like this? Mr. Amos wondered. Did anything go wrong at the wake or the funeral? “I thought you would come home bubbling over with news, and couldn’t wait to tell what you saw,” he said to Felo, as he came in from the yard and began making ready to serve dinner.
He didn’t feel like talkin’, Felo answered. He had to look after them snap-beans, and twist them around the cane-reed poles he brought from home; before the wind broke all the runners and fixed them so they wouldn’t make no beans; after all the bother he had with them, waterin’ and ’tendin’ them like he did every evenin’....
“So set down an’ eat, an’ don’ plague me,” he said, appealingly. “Evvything hyuh on de table for you. An’ if you want somh’n, I’ll be right hyuh in de yard, an’ you kin call me.... Da’s alright?” He asked hesitatingly.
“Go on,” Mr. Amos told him with an amused smile. “Maybe the fresh air will revive you; and later on you’ll be more sociable.”
He didn’t need no fresh air to revive his feelin’s; Felo argued with himself as he worked with hisbeans. Wasn’t he out in the fresh air nearly all day? But that didn’t keep him from gittin’ down-casted. Even with music playin’, and the Peefus members marchin’ back and forth around Gussie’s tomb, callin’ out to the devil and beatin’ him off with their battle axes. And with the people singin’ and talkin’ and goin’ on like they did.... Excitement ain’t had nothin’ to do with his feelin’s bein’ upset. It was what people did to him that made him feel troubled in his mind.... Just like Mr. Amos thinkin’ he wasn’t sociable. Somebody onsociable was ’most as bad as somebody what wasn’t no Chrishtun.... He went on ruminating.
What make Mr. Amos think he ain’t sociable, after he done come back from Gritny plumb disgusted with evvything; glad to git home where he could look over his mind peaceful, when he was doin’ his cookin’ and tryin’ to make things look nice and invitin’ to please nobody but him.... That wasn’t no way to talk to an ole-time fellow-servant, just because he ain’t ready to stretch his eyes and grin the minute somebody look at him.... It sho was disencouragin’.... Couldn’t Mr. Amos keep patience, and wait till he got through twistin’ them snap-beans? And finished up evvything in the kitchen, so he could talk to him free and light-minded, after both of them went upstairs?
It sho was strange, for people what was raised together, and played with each-another from the days of their younger youth, not to be able to ’zern anybody condition when they seen them lookin’ like somh’n heavy was layin’ on their mind....
“De man ain’ know me yet; an’ hyuh I bin servin’ ’im thoo evvy kind o’ close quarters all dese many years? Lawd, Lawd! Hyuh somh’n else done comed up povokin’,” he went on cogitating aloud; hurrying through his work to get upstairs, where he knew he would find Mr. Amos in his room, lying down, reading.
Hearing Felo’s habitual goat-like sniff with which he playfully announced his arrival, Mr. Amos turned and saw him leaning against the door frame, waiting to be invited to have a seat. Knowing Felo’s propensity for all kinds of “good stimalashun,” and wanting to see him in a pleasant frame of mind, Mr. Amos gave him the keys of the armoire, and told him to get the bottle of Scotch whiskey he would find on the shelf, and help himself to a comforting drink.
Felo brought the bottle and two glasses and put them on the washstand, and sat down, looking at the bottle without speaking.
“Don’t you want a drink?” Mr. Amos asked in surprise. “Lord knows you look like you need one.”
“How long you bin had dis bottle o’ w’iskey?” Felo asked with quiet artfulness.
“About two weeks.”
... “Is you know de bottle open, an’ some de licker gone from out it?” Felo asked, with a knowing side glance at Mr. Amos.
“Yes. I opened it,” he told him. “What about it?”
“So da’s de way you does now,—drinks yo’ lickersecut!” Felo accused him playfully. “You sho is a nasty ’ceitful w’ite man,” he went on, resuming something of his natural humor. “Done got you a nice full bottle o’ w’iskey settin’ up in yo’ cubbud, locked up; an’ ain’ say a word to nobody,—an’ me right hyuh in de same house wid you; an’ comes up hyuh to yo’ room on de sly, an’ drinks to yo’ ease; an’ den got de cheek to tell me ’bout bein’ onsociable!... Man, you oughta go ’way from hyuh.”
Mr. Amos put his book aside and laughed with hearty enjoyment at the playful reprimand. He knew by the familiar attitude that Felo was himself again. It was not the familiarity of disrespect or impudence; but a wholesome, child-like familiarity born of simple trust and friendly understanding; a delightful freedom of manner and speech never indulged in before any unsympathetic outsider, but reserved for the exclusive entertainment of his “ole-timebuzzum friend,” whom he knew would never misinterpret the intention.
“Then you don’t want a drink, I suppose? Since you feel that you’ve been slighted,” Mr. Amos said to him.
“Who?” Felo answered, reaching for the bottle and taking out the cork with a flourish. “Don’t you know I bin too well-raise to refuse? ’Specially good licker like dis bottle look to be?... An’ I’m goin’ fill up dis glass my own-self, too,” he went on muttering softly. “’Cause you jus’ natchally tetches a bottle too light w’en you eechin’ out licker to people. An’ you know I don’ b’lieve in bein’ skimson ’bout no kind o’ stimalashun.”
Having filled the glasses, he gave one to Mr. Amos, then lifting his own and sniffing with energy, he said:
“Peace an’ happiness to yo’ heart, an’ Gawd keep de castle well-puhvided.”
“That’s a very nice long-sighted wish,” Mr. Amos told him, smiling. “Here’s to your good health, and a whole lot of excitement when you go home Sunday.”
“Look! Leave dat be right whah it is,” Felo answered abruptly. He didn’t want to hear tell nothin’ about any Sunday.... Who wanted to talk about lookin’ for any excitement, when everybody wasgone away to the sugar-grindin’, and nobody he cared about was left in Gritny to stir up somh’n anyways interestin’?... He didn’t have nothin’ particular to go home for Sunday. Ma Fanny could get some of Liza’s lazy chillun to worry over totin’ slop for that hog.... And anyway, he was disgusted with totin’ slop like he did every Gawd-blessed Sunday of the world; and ain’t got nothin’ for it except people criticizin’.... They didn’t have nobody he cared to see in Gritny. He was goin’ to stay home and go to church in the evenin’, yonder to Holly Grove, ’cross the New Basin.... Wondering at this sudden disinterest in things at home, Mr. Amos suggested that Lethe might be pleased to see him on Sunday.
Who? Felo answered with a tone of evident disappointment. Lethe wasn’t no diffunt from the rest of them crazy wimmins bin raised on a plantation.... You can take a nigger out the country, but you sho Gawd can’t take the country out a nigger.... He went on with vehemence. Lethe wasn’t satisfied with havin’ a good place to work at Miss Tillie house; comin’ home soon every evenin’, with half a day off on Sunday, when the two of them could be together nice and friendly; there she had to leave ole wild Lizzie Cole put devilment in her head and make her onrestful,—goin’ yonder to the sugar-grindin’like all them other cheap Gritny niggers what think more about money than they do about manners and behavior....
“An’ ain’ tol’ me a word ’bout w’at she was inten’ to do, till de las’ minute,” he went on.
Now that the cheering drink had loosened his tongue, Mr. Amos knew that he would continue to talk freely, and it was wise to offer no interruption. Of course, goin’ to Gussie’s funeral with Lizzie Cole for her partner couldn’t be helped; Felo went on to relate. Because all the wimmins had to keep separate from the mens and march to they-self; so Lethe wascompelledto walk ’long-side of Lizzie, when Lizzie just natchally forced herself on her.... But how Lethe ain’ come to change her mind and break away from Lizzie comin’ back, was somh’n he couldn’t understand, no matter how hard he thought on it.... Stickin’ close to Lizzie like she did, and the two of them comin’ up the big road, dancin’ and shakin’ their reckless bodies to the ratty music the band was playin’; the same as if they were yonder on the flatform to Mr. Snider honky-tonk, back of Gritny.... “And mad like I was, there I couldn’t say a thing to her; ’count o’ bein’ in de purrude wid de Peefus uniform on, an’ all de ’couterments in my hand an’ ’cross my shoulder....”
“And did you get to see her after the funeral was over?” Mr. Amos encouraged him.
“Who?... Maybe you ain’ think I didn’t set to her strong w’en I got back to her house, aft’ I left de crowd at de ferry-landin’,” Felo boasted.
What he said to her sho was goin’ to hold her for a long time; the way he sasharated her feelin’s for leavin’ ole strumpet Lizzie lead her astray, and makin’ her expose herself before all Gritny like she did.... No indeed. He didn’t bit his tongue; when he knowed that the sperret o’ Gawd had called on him to chastise Lethe, and make her re’lize what was her fittin’ tahminashun....
“And did Lethe stand for all your severity and offer no resistance, or try to make an explanation of any kind?” Mr. Amos asked him.
“Da’s de very subjec’ I’m comin’ to now,” Felo continued. “She look like she ain’careto answer back; jus keepin’ still, an’ goin’ roun’ de room, straight’nin’ up, an’ fixin’ some her clo’se w’at was piled up on de bed.
“I say to myself: Da’s a good sign. She ain’ try’n to start no wrangle, like she always do. She mus’ be thinkin’ ’bout w’at I say to her; an’ she goin’ profit by it.
“So aft’ I had talk all I wan’ talk, an’ tol’ her I was goin’ count on seein’ her nex’ Sunday; she come tode front gate wid me nice an’ frien’ly; an’ I lef’ her lookin’ like she was please’; an’ went roun’ to Ma Fanny house to see how things was gittin’ on, befo’ I start back ’cross de river.
“Evvything had come to look so encouragin’, I never would bin thought ’bout nothin’ diffunt; an’ my ’tenshun was leadin’ me to hurry up an’ git hyuh to fix things for you quick as I could. But it mus’ bin de sperret o’ Gawd met me on de road, an’ tol’ me to go by de Morgan station....
“W’en de nex’ thing I knowed: Hyuh was Lethe, wid a bundle o’ clo’se un’ her arm; stannin’ in line at de railroad station, munks a mul’tude o’ wimmins, waitin’ to git on de train goin’ yonder to Lafoosh sugar-grindin’.... Wid Lizzie Cole right ’longside her, grinnin’ at me like a fatal devil straight out o’ Hell.”
“And what did you do?” asked Mr. Amos, laughing with keen amusement at the awkwardness of the situation and Felo’s naïve revealment of righteous disappointment.
“W’at you expec’ me to do, w’en de train was jus’ ’bout to pull out from de station?” He asked fretfully. “You ain’ think I’m goin’ jump on an’ go ’long wid her, is you?”
“And Lethe never told you anything about wanting to go to the grinding?” Mr. Amos inquired.
“What Lethe wan’ go to any grindin’ for, w’en she makin’ good money at Miss Tillie house? An’ got a nice place to live in, decen’ an’ high-minded? An’ got me to lend her ’sistance inny time she lookin’ for a willin’ han’?” ... Felo argued with growing resentment. “Lethe ain’ never had no grindin’ to study ’bout, till dat wil’ Hellian Lizzie come ’long an’ got her worked up ove’ it.... An’ for nothin’ mo’ den to spite me, an’ git me onsatafied; ’cause she knowed dat nex’ to my church, Lethe was de secon’ big injoyment to make me count on comin’ over to Gritny evvy Sunday.... But w’at I got to count on now? De way things done come to be mixed up, an’ Lethe done gone away?”
There was a note of loneliness in his voice, and his face assumed an expression of utter bereavement. Mr. Amos regarded him in silence, amused by his quaint philosophy, at the same time conscious of a feeling of genuine sympathy.
“To look at you now,” he said to him cheerfully, “anyone would think that Lethe was dead and buried, and you didn’t have a friend left in the world. Aren’t there some other worthwhile people in Gretna you can go to see?... There, take your glass, and have a drink to a new pleasure next Sunday.”
Felo looked at the bottle, trying to smile. He wasn’t worrin’ about seein’ no Gritny people, he answered with polite indifference. Nearly everybody what had any life in them, and counted for somh’n with the colored folks, was gone to the country. And all the other ondecent mixtry they had roamin’ around town, he didn’t care to have no traffic with.... But maybe he would look over his mind, and go to see Aunt Susan and Tom. Because he got word that Susan was goin’ to give a molasses candy pullin’, to raise a little money for ole Unc’ Foteen. So maybe he would consider goin’ up the coast, and help out the best way he could.... Every little nickel did some good in the time of need. And the poor ole man didn’t have so long to live, no-how.... And then he was sure Unc’ Nat would be there to give Susan a hand. You could always look to find Unc’ Nat any place where they was passin’ around the plate, takin’ up collection for somebody in trouble.... And any way, he wouldn’t mind seein’ Unc’ Nat, Sunday. ’Cause Unc’ Nat was one what never fail to make somebody laugh when they be feelin’ down-casted and onsatafied....
“Well then, fill your glass, and let us drink to a big jubilation at Susan’s next Sunday,” Mr. Amos told him. “And then, go to bed and rest yourself, andtry to forget your disappointment. You know, we both need plenty of sleep and rest if we expect to keep young and always look beautiful.”
“Man, quit yo’ humbug, for Gawd sake,” Felo answered, with a broad smile, as he filled a glass for Mr. Amos and handed it to him.
Then he poured a glass for himself and drank it down with a sounding gulp, and looked at Mr. Amos, saying:
“Who ever tol’ you, you was beautiful?... You know good as I know, dat Miss Ellen, either Ma Fanny, ain’ never rocked either one us on dey lap no time, an’ say: Go to sleep my pretty baby.”