Before first dark fell Budda Ben came in. He was vexed, and he began talking at once. "Looka here, Si May-e, you done fretted long enough. You got to stop or I'm pure done wid you. I come here to tell you how I feel about de way you's a-actin."
Budda did not hold back his words in bitter blame of her grief, but, although he had come to scold her, she knew she had no better friend in the world.
"Budda, do light you pipe an' don' talk hard at me to-night. Talk some pleasant talk, instead o such stiff words."
"I come to talk stiff words, gal. You ain' got a soul but me an' Ma to tell you to you face what is pleasin to Jedus: de Gawd's truth. Ma is too good-hearted to hurt you feelins, so I'm gwine to do so."
"No, Budda, you's wrong. Auntie has just been here a-hurtin my feelins awful bad."
"I'm glad to hear it. I'm gwine to hurt em some more. You may as well set still an' listen till I get done. Anybody to see you would think you was a diffunt breed from we. You got so you act like a don'-care, triflin Dinka nigger; or a puny, sickly no-manners Guinea. You must be forgot who you come from, enty? You garden is all growed up in weeds; you ain' set a hen
