Scootie Tandy gasped like a woman who had been under water for about five minutes and had just come up, but neither of the men noticed her. Popsy Spout hesitated a minute, scratched his snow-white hair, and looked at the neat piles of money with an air of perplexity. “Isn’t that correct?” Gaitskill asked. “Yes, suh, dat’s c’reck,” Popsy said uncertainly. “Dat’s de same number I got when I counted it, but somepin is powerful strange ’bout dat money.” “What’s the trouble?” Gaitskill asked. “You counted it so quick, Marse Tommy!” “Well--I counted it right, didn’t I?” “Yes, suh, but--I reckin’ it’s all right, Marse Tommy. But, you see, it tuck me five whole days to count dat money an’ it wus de hardest wuck I ever done--I sweated barrels of sweat! It ’peared like a whole big pile, when I counted it. But ef I spends it as quick as you counted it, ’twon’t las’ me till I kin walk outen dis here bank!” “I understand,” Gaitskill smiled. “But you don’t want to spend this money. How long did it take you to accumulate it?” “Fawty year,” Popsy told him. “Bad times comes frequent to a nigger, an’ I wanted to save a leetle ahead.” “The idea is to take as long spending it as you did accumulating it,” Gaitskill said. “In that case, it will last you until you have passed one hundred.” “Yes, suh, dat’s de properest way to do,” Popsy agreed. “Dat’s why I fotch dis money to you. Kin you keep it fer me?” “Certainly. That’s what this bank is for.” “Marse Jimmy Gaitskill over in Burningham--his bank paid me int’rust prannum on dat money,” Popsy said. “I’ll pay you interest per annum, too,” Gaitskill smiled, well knowing that his brother had supported Popsy Spout for half a century. “How much money will you need to live on each year?” “I kin git along on ’bout ten dollars a month, Marse Tommy--wid de clothes an’ vittles dat de white folks gimme. I kin save a little out of dat to ’posit back in de bank fer rainy days.” “That’s one hundred and twenty dollars a year with clothes and food,” Gaitskill laughed. “Some of the bank’s patrons would like to get that much interest per annum.” “Yes, suh. Marse Jimmy Gaitskill specified dat my nigger money drawed powerful int’rust outen his bank.” “You can come here and draw ten dollars every month,” Gaitskill said, and he picked up a card and wrote a few words upon it. “Dat’ll fix me fine, Marse Tommy. I kin live scrumpshus on dat.” “Where are you going to live?” “I ain’t got nowhar yit,” Popsy said. “Would you like to live in the log cabin where you lived fifty-five years ago?” Gaitskill inquired. “Whar I married at? Whar me an’ Ca’lline live happy till all us boys went off to de war? Whar you an’ me an’ Marse Jimmy an’ little Hinry useter roast goobers in de hot ash?” Popsy asked eagerly. “The very same,” Gaitskill answered softly. “With the big pecan tree still standing before it, and the big stone door-step where we boys cracked the nuts.”