“It's takin' mo' at one time an' de white folks 'speck you to take,” defined the woman. “Well, I'll go git her clo'es.” She hurried off up the crescent.
Peter and Tump waited in the Berry cabin for Nan's return. Outside, the Berry cabin was the usual clapboard-roofed, weather-stained structure; inside, it was dark, windowless, and strong with the odor of black folk. Some children were playing around the hearth, roasting chestnuts. Their elders sat in a circle of decrepit chairs. It was so dark that when Peter first entered he could not make out the little group, but he soon recognized their voices: Parson Ranson, Wince Washington, Jerry Dillihay, and all of the Berry family.
They were talking of Cissie, of course. They hoped Cissie wouldn't really be sent to the penitentiary, that the white folks would let her out in time for her to have her child at home. Parson Ranson thought it would be bad luck for a child to be born in jail.
Wince Washington, who had been in jail a number of times, suggested that they bail Cissie out by signing their names to a paper. He had been set free by this means once or twice.
Sally, Nan's little sister, observed tartly that if Cissie hadn't acted so, she wouldn't have been in jail.
“Don' speak lak dat uv dem as is in trouble, Sally,” reproved old Parson Ranson, solemnly; “anybody can say 'Ef.'”
“Sho am de troof,” agreed Jerry Dillihay.
