“It sho was a soun’ dat made me cunsider w’at I want y’all do wid me w’en de time come for puttin’ me away.... An’ Chester, I want you look to it; you hyeah me?... You know dis lan’ is a swampy lan’; an’ it hol’s de water a long time; ’specially aft’ a heavy rain bin fall. An’ you kin bail de water out a grave much as you want, but you can’ keep it from seepin’ back in agin.... So you make ’um put me way up on a top shelf in dat big tomb ’long-side de back fence, yonder in de Gates o’ Mary, high an’ dry out de flood. ’Cause I sho don’ wan’ think ’bout bein’ drownded aft’ I done died in my bed natchal.... No Lawd, not me!” “Sho mus’ bin made Aun’ Amy felt bad,” Chester commiserated. “Who?” Lizzie exclaimed with sudden animation. “Aun’ Amy ain’ knowed a single thing w’at went on w’en dey put Aun’ Milly way.... She fell to sleep in de ca’idge on de way to de graveyard; an’ w’en dey reached de place, an’ wan’ try an’ make Aun’ Amy git out an’ walk to de grave-side, leadin’ de moaners; de po’ ole soul was so helpless drunk, dey had to leave ’uh settin’ up in de ca’idge in de road.... An’ she ain’ took no part in _none_ de excitement.” Chester laughed heartily. “Lawd! I’m sho sorry I missed goin’ wid you,” he remarked. “But stop talkin’ ’bout dead people, Lizzie; an’ tell who else you seen yonder.” “Chester, you ain’ expec’ me to tell you ’bout all dat mult’tude o’ niggers dey had to Aun’ Milly funeyun, is you?” Lizzie asked, playfully. “De main thing I got to tell you, is ’bout Sis’ Tempe. Me an’ her walked home together; an’ chile, w’at she had to say, sho got my min’ upset thinkin’ ’bout it.” “W’at make you wan’ worry ’bout anything Sis’ Tempe tell you? Don’t you know Tempe ain’ bin right ever since Unc’ Peesah died? An’ her min’ comes and goes?” Chester reminded her. “Da’s de very thing I’m comin’ to,” Lizzie answered. “Tempe simple-minded, I know. But if she keep on goin’ ’roun ’munks people an’ talkin’ like she talk to me today; ’tain goin’ be but _one_ po’ nigger land in jail befo’ de end o’ dis year be over; a’ dat nigger ain’ goin’ be nobody but Chester.” “W’at thing dis is Tempe done mixed me up in?” Chester asked in dull amazement. Lizzie told him how Tempe complained to her about everything going to ruin since Peesah died, leaving her with nobody to take care of the place. How the garden needed plowing, and nobody wanted to do it for her. How she thought of selling her mule and dump cart to Nat, because she had no money to keep them; and what money she got by selling them would buy food and clothes and all she needed.... That she knew somebody was burning a candle over her to keep bad luck in her way just for “envy-stripe”.... That she was sure of it; because she found red pepper and buzzard feathers and candle-sperm tracks on her front door steps, three Friday mornings hand-running....