The first member to arrive was Scilla, a tall, buxom, good-natured young woman with a snub nose and surprised-looking eyes. Her dress was a guinea blue, of plain make, the “josey” very close-fitting. Her head was bare; and her only ornamentation, a pair of large, flat, pearl earrings, which seemed to heighten the bizarre expression of her humorous face and the velvety sheen of her ebon complexion. She came bursting into the room suddenly, calling out in mock-excitement: “But no, Sis’ Susan! W’at you an’ Mr. Tom doin’, settin’ hyuh in de dark together like ole folks? Nobody ain’ come yet? Dis de right night, ain’ it?” “For Gawd sake, Scilla, don’ be so boist’us,” Susan replied, getting up to light the lamps on the table, and quietly putting them in their places. “O ’scuse me, Sis’ Susan; I didn’ know y’all was holin’ a wake,” returned Scilla playfully. “Gal, set down an’ be still like people,” said Tom. “You ain’ bin hyuh for a week, an’ you mus’ be got some news to tell, ’side yo’ random talk. Susan, bring de gal a cup o’ coffee an’ leave her git to business.” “Da’s right, Mr. Tom. I wan’ make you laugh ’bout my w’ite folks,” Scilla answered. Susan brought her a cup of coffee, and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. Scilla helped herself generously to sugar, and as she stirred her coffee, began her gossip. “You ain’ goin’ b’lieve me w’en I tell you I ain’ workin’ for Miss Mimi no longer.” (Looks of astonishment from Tom and Susan.) “I des _had_ to leave. You know, dey say niggers ain’ got no principle. But dey got a whole lot o’ w’ite folks w’at ain’ a bit better.” “Scilla, ain’ you shame to scandalize de people you gits yo’ livin’ from?” Susan asked in honest surprise. “Who? Sis’ Susan, I ain’ say’n nothin’ w’at ain’ true. Is Miss Mimi ever paid you anything for de many times I comed hyuh an’ borried yo’ gahlic an’ peppers an’ seas’nin’ an’ things to put in her vittuls w’en she had big comp’ny to her house? Try’n to make a show, an’ lookin’ to de niggers to help her out?... Who? Dat ain’ w’at I calls principle.” “Gal, don’ talk so fas’,” Susan told her. “I’m knowin’ Miss Mimi ever since she was a baby-chile.” “But she done los’ her baby-ways now; an’ you ain’ know her since she growed up an’ got ways like dey say us niggers got.” “Scilla, you sho is crittacul,” said Tom. “Go ’head an’ talk w’at you start to talk.” Scilla looked towards Susan for permission to go on. Finding no objection, she continued: “’Tain much to tell. I des wan’ let you know I lef’ Miss Mimi ’cause I des natchally got tired seein’ her losin’ her self-respec’, an’ hyeahin’ w’ite folks talkin’ ’bout her behin’ her back evvy time dey seen me. Bein’ a nigger, how could I make ’um shut dey mouth? So de bes’ thing for me to do was to quit.” “You didn’t go ’way hap-hazzud, widout givin’ notice, did you?” Susan inquired, with a note of severity in her voice.