Chicken-Volsin walked to the door with him and saw him go out in the rain. He stood watching him running across the street, and laughed to think what a fool Gussie was, exposing himself to such weather “for nothin’ but one li’l ole raggedy quilt.” On reaching Carmelite’s house, Gussie pushed the gate open hurriedly, and ran up the steps, stamping his feet loudly on the gallery, trying to dry them. Carmelite was in the kitchen, and hearing the strange noise, she came out to see who had arrived. As she entered the room, the front door flew open unceremoniously, and she saw Gussie lunge into the room; his shoes covered with mud, and rillets of water running from his clothing and dripping from his cap, all over her neat, well-scrubbed floor. She looked at him, filled with consternation, struggling for appropriate speech. “Look! ole ugly w’ite nigger.... Is you done los’ yo’ good mind?” She almost shouted. “W’at you _mean_, comin’ up in my house dis-away?... Wettin’ up all my funnuchuh, an’ trackin’ dirt all ove’ my nice clean flo’ wid yo’ big ole muddy shoes?... _Git_ out o’ hyuh an’ go whah you b’long!... Nobody ain’ ax you to come hyuh, no-how.” “Carmelite, don’ holluh at me like dat,” Gussie appealed to her quietly. “Lemme git to de kitchen an’ set by de stove, an’ git dry befo’ people start to come an’ ketch me lookin’ like dis.... Mizabul as you see me hyuh, wid all dese wet clo’se on.” “_Who?_” Carmelite shouted with indignation. “You ain’ think you goin’ stay hyuh tonight an’ go munks people, trampy-lookin’ an’ lavadated as you is?... Who?... Gussie, you mus’ be a fool!... So you better make up yo’ min’ to go ’way from hyuh right now; an’ no mo’ talkin’ ’bout it.... You hyeah w’at I say?” Gussie looked at her dejectedly, wondering whether to go or stay. He tried to reason with her, telling her that he only wanted to get dry before going out again; that was all. She wouldn’ have the heart to turn him out in the rain, after he came all the way from the woods to take a few chances just to help her out? Nobody would turn a dog out-doors a night like that. He wouldn’ bother anybody out in the kitchen all by himself. Who would care anything about him, as long as they were having a good time in the front of the house? Taking a half dollar out of his pocket, he held it out to Carmelite saying: “Hyuh; take dis fo’-bits, an’ pick some good numbers, an’ see’f you can’ win de quilt for me; so I kin take it yonder to Aun’ Fisky.” Carmelite took the coin without a demur. It was an unexpected ameliorating charm. A welcome token of truce.