And so he spent his days among his chosen companions, resigned to his humble fate; satisfied with old Aunt Fisky’s motherly attentions, and the squalid atmosphere of the poor shanty they called home; comfortable with the boisterous young colored women who permitted him to bestow upon them the freedom of his prodigal affection; and companionable with the roustabouts and longshoremen with whom he worked and gambled and caroused; imbibing their thoughts and ideas, adopting their dialect, and imitating their manners and ways. Gussie came lumbering into the room, scanning the faces of the singers nervously. Finding himself suddenly yielding to the melody’s insistent appeal, he lifted his raucous voice to join the chorus just as the song came to an end. With a disappointed look, he asked: “W’at y’all stop for? Go ’head agin, an’ lemme sing wid you.” “W’at you know ’bout singin’, ole w’ite nigger?” Felo asked, half-jestingly. “Sho time to stop, w’en you come lopin’ up in hyuh an’ wan’ sing.” It was a thrust that went deeper than Felo intended. Gussie understood that the feeling with which he was accepted by his colored companions was something more like tolerance than a feeling of genuine friendship; and the fact, unpleasant as it was, made him conscious of a natural sense of race pride and prejudice not easily overlooked. With an indignant glare at Felo, he said: “I know I’m w’ite, ole ugly nigger. But you ain’ got to tell me ’bout it. I bin knowin’ you ever sence we was chillun playin’ together; but you ain’ need to talk like dat befo’ all dis crowd.” “Gussie,” Susan called to him quietly, “put yo’ hat yonder, an’ set down, an’ don’ ack so boist’us. You ain’ bin hyuh for over three weeks, an’ now you come an’ wan’ raise a confusion? Go set down an’ ack like people.” Taking in the awkwardness of the situation with admirable tact, Carmelite asked: “Gussie, how much Aun’ Fisky chahges for a dozen duck aigs? I got one muskovy duck home yonder I wan’ set befo’ de weather git too col’.” “She bin gittin’ two-bits a dozen for ’um.” Gussie answered sullenly. “But she ain’ got no mo’, now.” “You mean she done sol’ all her ducks?” Carmelite persisted. “No. She done sol’ all de aigs she had to Mr. Gully baker-shop.” “Go ’way from hyuh, Gussie,” Carmelite answered, laughing. “W’at Mr. Gully wan’ do wid duck aigs in a baker-shop?” “To put in de cake for de weddin’, las’ night.” “Who? Dey had a weddin’ yonder in Gritny las’ night?” Inquired Susan, eager to hear further particulars. “Yas’m.” Gussie replied, becoming more amiable. “Dat w’ite ooman dey call Maggie Hutson. ’Twas her weddin.’” “Lawd!” exclaimed Nookie in tones of great surprise. “You mean to say ole Maggie Hutson done got her a husban’, aft’ de sinful life she bin carryin’ all dese years up an’ down de road wid so many diffunt mens?... Lawd! Gussie, tell it agin; so I kin lissen if w’at you tellin’ is somh’n true.”