"Yond'rs him,--standin' b'hime Miss Wile Grape. Dey's er heap er men fokes hidin' b'hime der ole ladies in dis worl', too! Yas, suh! an' dey's er heap uv 'ooman fokes dat act jes' like Miss Wile Grape done whin Mist'r Wise Oak tell her long time ergo ter stop keepin' comp'ny wid Holl'r Tree. Mist'r Wise Oak tell her Holl'r Tree ain' fit'n fur nuthin' but ter hide possums in. "She say, 'I doan keer ef he can't do nuthin', I kin make er livin' fur bofe uv us, but I'm jes' bleeg ter have sumbody ter lean on.' "He say, 'Doan git er long s' fas', Wile Grape; lay low fur er while, an' 'twon' be long 'fo' young Johnnie Live Oak'll reach out an' ax you ter lean on him.' "She say, 'No, I ain' gwine 'ginst Holl'r Tree jes' 'caze he's gettin' ole an' ball.' "Miss Crab Apple tell her, 'Dat's right, grab yer fus' chance, 'caze yer ain' gwina git no mo'.' Dat hu't po' lit'le Wile Grape's feelin's, an' she sorter wilt an' creep on de groun' tell Miss Bizzy Bee come an' tell her Holl'r Tree say ef she doan come on, he gwine tumble ter pieces. Den she lif' up her haid an' git Bob Win' ter take her up ter Holl'r Tree, an' she bin dar ev'r sense, tryin' ter hide his ole ugly se'f; an' de wurser he look, de mo' purty leaves an' grapes she try ter kiv'r ov'r him." "What'd Miss Crab Apple say?" Mary Van wanted to hear the gossip. "Nobody ain' lis'n ter whut she say, 'caze she so sour an' mean, ev'ybody keep out'n her way." Willis darted ahead. "Look, Mammy, look at the persimmons!" and he began hurling stones towards the tree. "Nobody doan want no green 'simmons, boy." "They're not green, they're yellow," and another stone followed. "Let dem 'simmons 'lone, I tell yer--dey ain' fit'n fur nothin', doan keer ef dey is yaller. De fros' got ter fall on 'em 'fo' eb'n possums'll eat 'em." She added, under her breath, "Like dese heah sour fokes dat don't nuv'r git sweet tell trub'le hit 'em." "I don't care, I'm going to knock 'em down anyway." "Ahah, you gwine be hard-haid'd jes' like 'Simmon Tree wus whin he wus er lit'le hard-haid'd boy tree, an' his ma tell him ter stop sassyin' old fokes." "Who did he sassy?" Willis looked with indecision at the stone in his hand. "I ain' gwine tell yer nuthin' tell yer th'ows dat rock down an' gits fur nuf fum 'Simmon Tree ter keep him fum lis'nin' ter whut I says, 'caze he 'memb'rs long time ergo whin all de trees wus waitin' ter see which one gwine have de fines' crap er chillun. Early hyah in de spring, 'fo' Jack Fros' go ter see Miss White Snow, Dandy Lion come peepin' out; all de trees bowin' an' swingin' derse'fs erbout axin' de news 'bout der chillun. Dandy Lion say, 'Don't yer heah lit'le Weepin' Will'r cryin' an' holl'rin' ov'r yond'r now?' Sho' nuf dar she wus tellin' her ma 'bout lit'le Maple Tree an' all uv 'em pushin' her out fus' ter see ef Jack Fros' fixin' ter pack his trunk." The stone slid noiselessly from Willis's hand, while Phyllis led the way beyond the green persimmons.