FullReads

“Sist’ Turner,” began the visitor, “I hopes I ain’t disturbin’ you by runnin’ in on you this mawnin’.”

“Honey,” said Aunt Dilsey, “you’re jes’ ez welcome ez day is frum night. Lemme fetch you a cheer out yere on the gallery.” And she made as if to heave her vast comfortable bulk upright.

“No’m, set right where you is,” begged Sister Menifee. “I ain’t got only jes’ a few minutes to stay. Things is mighty pressin’ with me. I got quite a number of my lady frien’s to see to-day an’ you happens to be the fust one on de list.”

“Is tha’ so?” inquired Aunt Dilsey. Her tone was cordiality itself, but one less carried away by the enthusiasm of the mission which had brought her than Sister Eldora Menifee was might have caught a latent gleam of hostility in the elder woman’s eye. “Well, go on, Ise lis’enin’.”

“Well, Sist’ Turner, ef you’s heared ’bout de work I been doin’ lately I reckin mebbe you kin guess whut brung me to yore do’. I is solicitin’ you fur yore fellership ez a reg’lar member of de ladies’ auxiliary of de new s’ciety w’ich Doct’ J. Talbott Duvall is got up.”

“Meanin’ perzactly w’ich s’ciety? Dis yere Doct’ Duvall ‘pears to be so busy gittin’ up fust one thing an’ then ‘nother seems lak I ain’t been able to keep track of his doin’s, ‘count of my bein’ so slow gittin’ round on my feet by reason of de rheumatism.”

“Meanin’ de Shinin’ Star Cullid Uplift and Progress League–dat’s de principalest activity in w’ich he’s now engaged. De dues is one dollar down on ‘nitiation an’ twenty cents a week an’–“

“Wait jes’ one minute, Sist’ Menifee, ef you please. ‘Fore we gits any furder ‘long answer me dis one question Ise fixin’ to ast you–do dis yere new lodge perpose to fune’lize de daid?”

“We ain’t tuck up dat point yit; doubtless we’ll come to de plans fur dat part later. Fur de time bein’ de work is jes’ to form de ladies’ auxiliary an’ git de main objec’s set fo’th.”

“Lis’en, chile. Me, I don’t aim never so long as I lives an’ keeps my reason to jine no lodge w’ich don’t start out fust thing by fune’lizin’ de daid. Ise thinkin’ now of de case of dat pore shif’less Sist’ Clarabelle Hardin dat used to live out yere on Plunkett’s Hill. She up an’ jined one of dese newfandangle’ lodges w’ich didn’t have nothin’ to it but a fancy name an’ a fancy strange nigger man runnin’ it, an’ right on top of dat she up an’ died ‘thout a cent to her back. An’ you know whut happen den? Well, I’m gwine tell you. Dat pore chile laid round de house daid fur gwine on three days an’ den she jes’ natchelly had to git out to de cemetery de bes’ way she could. Not fur me, honey, not fur me. Dey got to have de money in de bank waitin’ an’ ready to bury de fus’ member dat passes frum dis life before dey gits a cent of mine.”

“But dis yere lodge is gwine have a more ‘portant puppose ‘en jes’ to fune’lize de daid,” protested Sister Eldora. “We aims to do somethin’ fur de livin’ whilst yet dey’s still alive. Curious you ain’t tuck notice of de signs of de times ez dey’s been expounded ‘mongst de people by Doct’ Duvall. He sho’ kin ‘splain things in a way to mek you a true believer.” The advocate of the new order of things sank her voice to a discreet half whisper. “Sist’ Turner, we aims at gittin’ mo’ of de rights dat’s due us. We aims to see dat de pore an’ de lowly an’ de downtrodden-on is purtected in dey rights. We aims–“

“Num’mine whut you aims at–de question is, is you gwine be able hit whar you aims? An’ lemme tell you somethin’ more, Sist’ Eldora Menifee. I ain’t needin’ no ladies’ auxiliary to tell me whut my rights is. Neither I ain’t needin’ to pay out no twenty cents a week to find out neither. W’en it comes to dat, all de ladies’ auxiliary w’ich I needs is jes’ me, myse’f. I knows good an’ well whut my rights is already an’ Ise gwine have ’em, too, or somebody’ll sho’ git busted plum wide open. Mind you, I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ ‘ginst dis new man nur ‘ginst dem w’ich chooses to follow ‘long after his teachin’s. Ise jes’ sayin’ dat so fur ez my jinin’ in wid dis yere lodge is concern’ you’s wastin’ yore breath. Better pass along, honey, to de nex’ one on dat list of your’n, ‘thout you’s a mind to stay yere an’ watch me dish up Jedge Priest’s vittles fur ‘im.”