“’Tain’t so bad,” Figger remarked. “It mought be better ef de town would take a notion to gib me a fust-class fun’ral. Of co’se, de Tickfall quawtette would hab to sing, an’ I’s de male serpranner in dat quawtette. It would be a real nice somepin new fer a corp’ to sing at his own fun’ral.” “Mebbe us could git de Nights of Darkness to hold a lodge of sorrer on you,” Skeeter cackled. “Ef dey does, I wants to sing my new solo ’bout ‘Locked in de stable wid de sheep,’” Figger announced. “Whut about de death ben’fit?” Skeeter inquired. “Is you gwine apply fer dat?” “Naw,” Figger laughed. “Ef de cormittee ’vestigates an’ repotes me dead, dey kin gib dat ben’fit to Popsy.” At this point the green-baize doors of the saloon were pushed open and Scootie Tandy blew in quivering with excitement. “Whut’s up, Scootie?” Skeeter exclaimed, springing to his feet. “Gawd pity you, Figger!” Scootie howled in tragic tones. “You made a awful mistake in gwine dead so suddent!” “Which way?” Figger asked in a frightened voice. “I went to de bank wid Popsy Spout an’ found out dat Popsy an’ Marse Tom Gaitskill is kinnery!” Scootie gushed forth. “Hear dat, now!” Skeeter exclaimed in a voice of wonder. “Popsy gib Marse Tom a wad of money dat it took Popsy five days to count!” Scootie ranted. “Oh, my _Lawd_!” Figger wailed. “Marse Tom gib Popsy one hundred an’ twenty dollars int’rust prannum on his money, an’ a awder on de sto’-house fer reg’lar rations, an’ a cabin to live in!” Scootie squalled. “My gawsh!” Figger bleated in dismay. “I done busted a egg on my own doorstep an’ hoodooed my own se’f!” “Dat’s whut you done, Figger!” Scootie howled. “I tole Popsy real prompt dat he needed a nuss an’ housekeeper in his ole age, an’ as Figger’s widder I wus lawfully ’lected to dat job, an’ he tuck me up right now!” “Oh-huh!” Figger grunted in despair. “Me an’ Popsy is gwine move in de ole log hut behime Marse Tom’s house to-morrer,” Scootie exulted. “Ten dollars per month an’ reg’lar vittles, chicken an’ pie--I won’t never hab to wuck no more.” “Lawdymussy!” Figger sighed. “Good-by, niggers!” Scootie exclaimed in a happy voice. “I won’t never reckernize you-alls no mo’--I draws a pension!” She swept out of the house and left two men struck speechless by the information she brought. A moment later they were interrupted again. Vinegar Atts plowed through the swinging doors, puffing like a steam-boat and sweating like an ice-pitcher. “Whar kin I find Brudder Popsy Spout, Skeeter?” he bellowed. “I wants to ’vite him to jine de Shoofly chu’ch an’ set heavy in de amen cornder. Dat’s de biggest nigger whut ever come to dis town. Word is sont out dat he old-soldiered wid de Gaitskills--fit wid de white folks! I needs him in my chu’ch!”