“Da’s a good sign,” Felo commented. “Nobody ain’ got no business bein’ down-casted w’en dumb critters kin feel de sperret o’ Gawd wakin’-up inside ’um, like dat bird yonder shoutin’ ’bout it.” He looked at the old house and thought how different it seemed from the other night when he saw it in the silent moonlight. How inviting it looked, with the sunshine playing over the gallery and its rickety old posts, covered with flowering vines; a veritable basket of rampant wistaria and luxuriant honeysuckle. He opened the gate and went around the side way, without calling. Lethe was in the back yard, feeding chickens; and she didn’t see him until he came where she was standing. She made no sign of recognition until he spoke. “Lethe, you don’ wan’ tell me good-mawnin’?” He asked quietly. “If you feel like you don’ wan’ talk, I kin go back whah I come from.” “Who invite you to come hyuh, any way?” She asked, indifferently. “I ain’ had to wait for no inv’tation,” he answered curtly. “I come hyuh ’cause my min’ lead me to come hyuh. To see how you gittin’ ’long.... To bring you dis aw’inge-rine purzerve I made for you.” (Offering her a glass of home-made orange marmalade.) She looked at him unmoved; without a show of surprise, resentment or just indignation; wondering what to say to him. Was he conscious of his meanness, she thought. If so, was she ready to forgive him, having had time to consider her unwarranted jealousy, provoked by Lizzie’s malicious gossip? But why did she doubt Felo when he tried to make her know that Lizzie lied. She knew he never showed any interest in other women as long as she had known him. And if he came specially to see her today, surely he would be ready to stand the expense of a few missing teeth. What was the loss of a few teeth compared with the loss of a friendly company-keeper like Felo?... And any way, wasn’t she the one who struck the first blow?... Having deliberated with herself to her apparent satisfaction, she told him to put the glass of marmalade in the kitchen, “till I ketch me one dese chickens to make some soup.” “You goin’ have comp’ny?” Felo asked. The thought of chicken seeming to indicate the approach of some festive occasion. “W’at I wan’ do havin’ comp’ny, wid all dese teeth missin’ out de front o’ my mouth?” She replied sharply; wondering at his total lack of judgment. “People can’t eat chicken out dey own yard lessen dey gotta have comp’ny to eat wid ’um?” “I ain’ findin’ fault wid you ’bout yo’ likin’s, Lethe,” he apologized. “I was thinkin’ ’bout you settin’ down by yo’self, eating lonesome; ’dout anybody to talk wid you, da’s all.” Her frown seemed to deepen, and her voice assumed a tone of annoyance.