After a while one came to the cotton seed oil mills with their spreading wharves built over the water, and the numerous electric lights and occasional patrolling nightwatchman offered a certain sense of protection. But it was not until one had passed through the long aisles of cotton seed in sacks, and bales of lint piled to a great height and covered with suspicious-looking tarpaulins, from under which imaginary ruffians might spring unawares, that a wholesome feeling of courage came to one before entering the village. Then, there was Mr. Cholly Groos’s bar-room, just at the edge of the town; and the thought of his inspiriting lemon-gin always made one “step light an’ ready to face the devil.” Having traipsed the lonely distance with little or no conversation between them, Lizzie at length proposed going to Mr. Cholly’s for a comforting cup before proceeding to her father’s church at the back of the town. Chester was agreeable and they hurried forward, talking pleasantly. “Chester, you got any money?” She asked him. “W’at you wan’ know for?” “Well, I jus’ wan’ know sho if you got money. ’Cause I don’ care if I get good an’ drunk tonight; ole Felo done got me feelin’ so upset,—callin’ me out my name like he did, yonder befo’ all dem people.” “W’at good gittin’ drunk goin’ do you?” Chester asked reprovingly. “’Tain’ goin’ hurt Felo none, is it?” “Nasty, scawnful, w’ite-folks nigger,” she muttered with deep contempt. “I ain’ goin’ leave myself res’ till I git even wid ’im.... You watch me.” “Ain’ Felo a member de New Hope church?” Chester insinuated with artful meaning. “Felo over hyuh evvy Sunday night; an’ dey ain’ got no under-groun’ workers kin tell you somh’n ’bout Felo tracks?” “Boy, you sho got a good head,” Lizzie answered. “Stay wid me; an’ no matter w’at happen, ’twon’ be nobody but Chester an’ Lizzie.... W’at you say?” “Gawd grant it,” he answered. And laughing merrily, they walked on towards the glimmering light from the bar-room door, a welcome beacon at the head of the street. They soon reached the place, and as Lizzie entered, followed by Chester, she called out gaily: “Two big cups o’ limmon-gin, Mr. Cholly. An’ po’ ’um out heavy; ’cause me an’ Chester feelin’ kind o’ weak an’ puny dis evenin’.” Across the room several men were playing cards. Recognizing Lizzie, one of them said to her: “How come you don’ stop play’n wid Chester, an’ git you a sho-nuf man w’at kin give you a good time, an’ show you somh’n natchal befo’ ole age come creepin’ up on you?” Lizzie stopped drinking, and glaring at him angrily, she answered with clinched teeth: “Good thing Mr. Cholly stannin’ hyuh, ole nigger. ’Cause I sho would tell you somh’n mo’ besides ‘damn yo’ nasty soul an’ go to Hell.’” After which, she gulped the remainder of her lemon-gin and stalked out of the room, leaving Chester to take care of the payment.