An’ dat ain’ all. You got ter quit runnin’ wif Byrd an’ Byrd wif you, you got ter be a better husban’ an’ you got to min’ everything Lucy tells you. Will you do hit? MADISON Yassuh. WILLIAMS An’ yo’ ain’ much of er temp’unce man neitheh, is you, Madison? MADISON I’s a temp’unce man but I ain’ no frantic. WILLIAMS Well, suh, you got ter jine de frantics now. No dram drinking at all. Will you quit hit er go ter jail? MADISON I’ll quit. WILLIAMS Well, dat’s on’y a promise but I’ll shore hol’ you to hit er put you behin’ de bahs. Why, look heah, man, does you know how you stan’ ’pon top er dis yu’th? Does you know how you liken to er tree? ’Sposin’ sumpin’ wif er cool eye like er tree could see you an’ talk. I cain’ jedge you ca’m but er tree could. Tree would look at you an’ say, “Does dat ’ere man wu’k?” Win’ ’ud whispeh, “No.” “Do he eat?” “Yas ’n git fat,” respon’ de win’. “Who shines on him?” “His wife,” win’ say. “Do he put fo’th flower an’ bless de wife?” say de tree. “No.” “Do he give shade an’ shelteh ter de wife?” say de tree. “No.” “Well, chop’m down an’ bu’n him befo’ he rots,” say de tree. “Dat’s all.” But mebbe I kin mek mo’ of him dan dat an’ so I’ll try prunin’ him an’ graftin’ some good labeh onto him. An’ I kin’ er think hit’ll save him yit. Well’m, I must be er goin’ now. Hit’s late an’ I mus’ git my res’ fer I got to do a lot er bossin’ termorrer an dat’s allers ha’d fer me. Lucy, I’ll fetch you de deeds ter de house befo’ nine termorrer an’, Madison, you kin repo’t to me at eight o’clock sha’p an’ give my little boy a lesson on de guitar. You’ll be dah, won’t you? MADISON [_Meekly._] Yassuh. WILLIAMS Ready to whu’l in an’ scratch. MADISON Yassuh. WILLIAMS Well den, les’ all shek han’s on de noo nes’ an’ de noo aig. [_They shake hands. He puts on his hat and turns to the door._] An’ dat remin’s me, Lucy, you better tell Madison to play on dat guitar a plenty tonight because he’ll need music fer to stan’ up undeh all de lessons I’m goin’ to lay onto him. Well, I wish you good night. I’m er gittin’ kin’er ole an’ I cain’ stay up late no mo’ without bein’ crosser in de mornin’. Good night den an’ far’ you well bofe. Eight o’clock, Madison. Good night. [_He goes, closing the door after him. The pair stand silent for a moment, MADISON with hanging head and in deep dejection._] LUCY [_Throwing her arms around him._] Oh, my husban’, I’ll pray fer you. Don’ sorrer now. Git youah res’ tonight. We kin be hones’ now. We’ve got de house at las’ an heah’s de guitar. MADISON Yassuh, heah’s de guitar. [_He plays it and fondles it. Then his face assumes again its melancholy look._] LUCY What’s de trouble? MADISON I don’ undehstan’ dis worl’. If I wants to make music why cain’t folks lemme alone to make music? If I dream a fine dream why is it I always wake up? Looks to me like somebody’s always tryin’ to crowd me out an’ git me in a tight place. LUCY