I bleeged ter get dis
lookin better fo mistus see it. She ant bin in here since she come home.
Cupid. Mars Winthrop sure anxious ter do somethin fer we all.
Pears like he most es griev as we is bout Mars George. I don fix up
little sprise fo um.
Marthy. What you know 'bout sprisin'? Why don you git de basket?
Cupid. I don hear Mistus say she anxious ter see Mars Winthrop
and Mars Hopkins, so she kin thank um ter all dey don--gitten de
ambulance wagen and sendin' de soldiers ter tek ker ob de place. And
when I seed um, I tole him Mistus want see him. He brighten up mighty,
and say dey come over har ter night. Now, don't you let on.
Marthy. Cose I ain't. Go on, nigger, wid de silber.
[Exit Cupid with silver.
Hit's somethin' ter git de minds off de trouble; It'll do um a power er
good.
[Enter Fair from the hall; she is very pale and tired looking:
she wears a simple little black dress; her hair tied with
a black ribbon; all her youthful gaiety is gone; she seems
suddenly to have become a woman. Her voice has a tired,
pathetic sound, as though she were constantly fighting for
her self-control.
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