JIMSELLA
whethah you evah sees dis chile er not. She 's a blessed li'l angel, dat 's what she is, an' I 'll wo'k my fingahs off to raise huh, an' when she grows up, ef any nasty niggah comes erroun' mekin' eyes at huh, I 'll ell huh 'bout huh pappy an' she 'll stay wd me an' be my comfo't."
"Keep yo' comfo't. Gawd knows I do' want huh."
"De time 'll come, though, an' I kin wait fu' it. Hush-a-bye, Jimsella."
The man turned his head slightly.
"What you call huh?"
"I calls huh Jimsella, dat 's what I calls huh, 'ca'se she de ve'y spittin' image of you. I gwine to jes' lun to huh data she had a pappy, so she know she 's a hones' chile an' kin hol' up huh haid."
"Oomph!"
They were both silent for a while, and then Jim said, "Huh name ought to be Jamsellas—don't you know Jim 's sho't fu' James?"
"I don't keer what it 's sho't fu'." The woman was holding the baby close to her breast and sobbing ow. "It was n't no James dat come a-cou'tin' me down home. It was jes' plain Jim. Dat 's what de mattah, I reckon you done
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