"De bigges' ain' got nuthin' ter do wid hit," as she resumed her seat; "hit de fokes dey haster 'sociate wid, dat's dang'us. Dey ain' nuthin' mo' dangersum ter er fly'n yo' ma," she looked him straight in the eye. "She got all de wind'rs fas'n'd up so yer can't shet er bline; an' she got dat sticky pap'r you sets in ev'ytime yer goes in de kitchin; an' she got dem pisnous flow'r boxes settin' ev'ywhar; an' she run 'roun' all day atter one fly, hittin' 'bout de house like de fly wus pis'n, sho' nuf. Miss Lucy's er sight, dat's de trufe, an' I doan blame Shoo Fly fur busin' her." The soft dumpling rolled down her throat, and Willis swallowed in sympathy. "Is Shoo Fly on the limb now?" "Nor, he tak'n din'r wid me terday, an' las' night, he tak'n supp'r wid Miss Lucy," she laughed aloud. "Did Mama try to kill him?" anxiously. "She sho' did, son, but dis heah Shoo Fly got er haid er Miss Lucy las' night," still she laughed. "Yas, suh, Shoo Fly tell Hoss Fly he sho' gwine perish ef he doan git er bite fum sumwhars. "Hoss Fly ax 'im: 'Is yer skeer'd ter go in Miss Lucy's house fur vit'als?' "Shoo Fly say, 'I ain' feerd er no Miss Lucy--I bin buttin' m' haid up 'ginst sum'in' nuth'r in de wind'rs, tell m' haid right full er bumps.' "Hoss Fly say, 'You ain' got no sense, Shoo Fly,--'cose you can't git in dat wire foolishness! De onlies' way ter git in, is ter set up on de porch, an' wait fur sum de fokes ter op'n de do'.' "Dat peart'n Shoo Fly up moutily, an' he say he gwine dat minit, an' he do. He git ter de front porch jes' es Miss Ma'y wus fancy talkin' ter one er her beaux. Shoo Fly slip in, an' fly back ter de pantry an' light on sum er dis heah right heah," she scraped the butter sauce from the edge of the plate and smacked her lips. "Whoopee, dat sort'r vit'als drive de skeer out'n enny fly. Shoo Fly jes' hop erbout, an' gorge hisse'f, tell bimeby he can't hole no mo'. He start ter go out de wind'r, but he 'memb'r 'bout dem bumps on his haid, so he tu'n roun' ter go in de parler, whin he come 'cross Miss Lucy! She start at 'im wid her fly-kill'r, an' sakes er live!--you ort'r seed de way Shoo Fly make Miss Lucy run erbout dat house!" Again she laughed, calling to mind Miss Lucy's daily fly fights. "But Shoo Fly hide b'hime yer gran'pa's pictur' ov'r de mantelpiece, an' wint fas' ter sleep. He doan wake up no mo' tell supp'r time, neeth'r. He g'long in de dinin' room ter supp'r wid de fambly, an' whin dey sets down, he tak'n his seat on de cream pitch'r. Miss Lucy knock at 'im, she do, den he recoleck de fuss him an' her done had wid one nuth'r, so he g'long ov'r ter Miss Ma'y's beau's plate, whar he know he kin eat all he want ter." "Wasn't he afraid of Shoo Fly?" asked Willis, surprised. "I nuv'r heah 'im pass no 'pinion 'bout de matt'r. Shoo Fly know dat man's eyes too bizzy lookin' at sum'in' purtier'n him, an' he know ergin de man got too much mann'rs ter set up an' fight flies whin he's vis'tin'.