"
Tump objected.
"Jail ain't no place fuh clean clo'es. She jes better serve out her term
lak she is, an' wash up when she gits th'ugh."
"You fool nigger!" snapped Nan. "She kain't serve out her term lak she
is!"
"Da' 's so," said Tump.
The three stood silent, Nan and Tump lost in blankness, trying to think
of something to do for Cissie. Finally Nan said:
"I heah she done commit gran' larceny, an' they goin' sen' her to de
pen."
"Whut is gran' larceny?" asked Tump.
"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.
Pages:
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347