“I was so sk’yeard, Unc’ Nat, I start to run an’ holler for help,” Scilla went on, with dramatic effect. “W’en jus’ ’bout dat time, I seen Mr. Gully baker wagon come ’roun de cawnder, an’ I call him to come see. “Mr. Gully got down off de wagon, an’ looked in de well. An’ w’en he seen for hisself ’twas Tempe body, he tol’ me go call somebody. So I went got two or three mens; an’ dey all fetched a rope an’ things from Tempe yard; an’ dey commence strug’lin wid de rope, till dey got it hitched roun’ Tempe body. An’ aft’ a li’l w’ile, dey pulled ’uh up. “Den dey all took Tempe to ’uh house; an’ I went got some wimmins livin’ close-by, to look aft’ ’uh an’ fix ’uh nice for de burryin’.... So aft’ I had did all I could, I lef’ ’um all yonder, an’ come hyuh to git my vegetables to carry over to New Leens to sell.” Nat looked at her in thoughtful contemplation. “Nobody ain’ said nothin’ ’bout how Tempe come to fall in de well?” He asked her. “Some de people say ’twas a accident. An’ some say Tempe bin so bad-off for so long, she was jus’ natchally weak-minded, an’ mus’ bin commit,” Scilla advised him. “I gotta go yonder dis evenin’, an’ see ’bout de funeyun,” Nat murmured softly, as if talking to himself. “Tempe ain’ got nothin’. An’ she bin too good a ooman to leave dem don’-care-fied niggers lay ’uh away, yonder in potter’s fiel’.” “Tempe got life-in-sho-ince, Unc’ Nat,” Scilla informed him. “One de wimmins foun’ de paper in Tempe berow draw. An’ dey done sont word ’cross de river to de Met-luh-policy man, to come see ’bout it befo’ dey take Tempe to de church.” “Dat ain’ got nothin to do wid me,” Nat answered abruptly. “Dis Tempe mule you see hitched to dis harrow I’m fol’rin behin’ dis mawnin’. An’ de secon’ payment ain’ made yet; an’ de money still owin’ to ’uh. So Nat gotta go yonder to Gritny an’ do de right thing; an’ see dat Tempe laid away like people. Not dumped in a hole like no-count cattle.” “Dey say dey lookin’ for de Met-luh-policy man to git dah ’bout twelve o’clock,” Scilla told him. “So Unc’ Nat, if you goin’ take charge de in-sho-ince money, you better go yonder soon’s you kin.” Nat looked at her with a scowl of annoyance. “Gal, stop tellin’ me ’bout de Met-luh-policy man,” he told her, sharply. “I ain’ got no business wid none o’ Tempe in-sho-ince money. I’m goin’ yonder wid Nat’s money.... Money w’at b’lonks to Tempe, for dis mule you see stannin’ hyuh.... Money w’at goin’ puhvide de carriage for all dem niggers to ride in; an’ give Tempe a good-lookin’ funeyun like people.... Da’s w’at Nat goin’ for.” “Well, I sho wan’ try be dah w’en you come, Unc’ Nat,” Scilla assured him. “So come on, an’ gimme my vegetables, an’ lemme go yonder an’ sell ’um, an’ git thoo soon’s I kin.” Scilla selected the vegetables she wanted, arranged them in her basket, gave Nat the money for them, and put the basket on her head and left. As soon as she had gone, Nat went back to his work.