“Booguloo give a good look, an’ he say: ‘Sho is, Lethe. Da’s Aun’ Amy own-self. An’ I bet she drunk as a policeman on Mahdi Gras day!’ “An’ Booguloo was right, too. ’Cause w’en de skiff come close enough for us to call to Aun’ Amy, she look like somebody simple; an’ she could hardly talk. “I say: Aun’ Amy, you mus’ bin heard de muskeeters was bad out hyuh soon in de mawnin’, ain’t you? “She look at me like somebody jus’ woke up, an’ she say: ‘Da’s w’at de tell me.’ Talkin’ slow, like her tongue mos’ pah’lize. “Booguloo say. ‘Aun’ Amy, whah you goin’ so soon in de mawnin’?’ “She say: ‘To fetch my Ma; yonder to Peach Awchud.’ “I say: Aun’ Amy, she ain’ sick, is she? “She say: ‘Da’s w’at dey tell me.’ “Booguloo say: ‘She ain’ dead, is she?’ “Aun’ Amy say: ‘Da’s w’at dey tell me.’ “I say: W’en she died, yistiddy? “She say: Da’s w’at dey tell me.’ “I say: An’ dey goin’ take ’uh all de way to Gritny to wake ’uh, an’ have de berrin’? “She say: ‘Da’s w’at dey tell me.’ “Booguloo say: ‘Look Mister; go ’head wid yo’ skiff. Hurry up an’ pull Aun’ Amy yonder to Peach Awchud, an’ leave ’uh learn somh’n mo’ concernin’ w’at dey goin’ do wid ’uh Ma. ’Cause she ain’ look like she know _nothin’_ ’bout de po’ ole soul.’ “So dah whah de skiff went on down de bayou. An’ I ain’ know nothin’ futher, till I got hyuh to de church dis evenin’, an’ foun’ all de members singin’ ove’ Aun’ Milly.” The amusing recital furnished Lizzie with keen enjoyment and she was laughing heartily. When Lethe had finished, Chester asked her: “But how dey got de ole lady way from Peach Awchud so quick? Peach Awchud mo’n eighteen miles down the bayou. How dey brought ’uh up?” “Dey fetched ’uh up in de skiff, rolled up in a blanket; wid Aun’ Amy settin’ on de back seat und’ de muskeeter net, speechless drunk, like she was w’en me an’ Booguloo seen ’uh dis mawnin’. An’ ’uh oldes’ daughter, Frozine, was waitin’ at de head o’ de cunnal wid Mr. Antoine groc’ry wagon; an’ dey brung ’uh straight hyuh to de church ’bout two hours ago.” “Whah dey lef’ Aim’ Amy?” Lizzie asked. “She settin’ up yonder on de front row, pah’lize drunk, try’n to sing. An’ nobody can’ get de po’ soul to budge.” “Aun’ Amy mus’ be got a flas’ hide somewhah in ’uh pocket,” ventured Chester. “She still drunk from soon dis mawnin’ till now.” “Mus’ be,” agreed Lethe. “Sis’ Fanny an’ Frozine bin try’n to git Aun’ Amy home to ’uh house, to drink some strong coffee, but she keep on say’n, talkin’ like somebody goin’ sing: “Go ’way, Sis’ Fanny, An’ lemme be. I’m de onles daughter my ole Ma had, An’ I’m jew to stay hyuh wid ’uh an’ sing.” “Den w’en Frozine try to coax ’uh home, she say, jes’ like she singin’: “Go ’way, chile, an’ lemme be. I’m po’ Aun’ Milly onles daughter, An’ she call me to come, But I went too late. She call me to hurry, But de boat was slow; An’ w’en I got to de bed-side, Aun’ Milly was gone.”