“Sho is,” declared Nookie. “I ain’ never took notice till now, how pale Gussie complexion.” “Look like Death done bleached his skin mo’ lighter,” Carmelite reflected pensively. “An’ Gussie sho look like somebody diffunt, layin’ up there strouded in dem purrade clo’se he got on,” said Pinkey, taking a seat along-side of Carmelite. At sight of Aunt Fisky coming in from the back room, all comment ceased for a while. She came over where the women were sitting, and gave Carmelite a pan full of orange leaves, asking her to pin them on the sheet “droped” over the table where Gussie was lying. Carmelite and several of the women got down on their knees and began pinning the orange leaves on the sheet, making a border in the form of a cross all around the bier. At length, a low mournful humming began to tremble in the room as the women went on with their work in the dim weird light from the flickering candles, standing in bottles on the mantelpiece and on the table at Gussie’s head and feet. Before long the old house was vibrating to the rolling sound of “Didn’t my Lawd deliver Daniel, And why not every man...?” Their voices pulsating with unusual fervor and their minds thrilled with the import of the words: “O de wind blows east, an’ de wind blows west; It blows like a Judgment Day; An’ ev’ry poor soul that never did pray ’ll be glad to pray dat day.” One by one the neighbors continued to come in, each one bringing along from home a chair to sit on; knowing that Aunt Fisky would not be able to accommodate them, and that the crowd would increase as the night went on. Felo began looking about eagerly to see if Lethe had come. What kept her so late? He asked himself.... He would run around to her house to see what was the matter.... Now was a good time. The singing was at its height.... Nobody would miss him.... Felo lost no time, but hurried on across the Green and down the street to Lethe’s house. As he opened the gate, he was surprised to find her sitting on the gallery steps, leaning against the post in the darkness. “W’at you doin’, settin’ out hyuh in de jew all alone?” He asked abruptly. “Who you waitin’ for? Settin’ out hyuh in de dark, wid dis chill air blowin’ ’cross yo’ shoulders, an’ nothin’ on to puhteck you from de night dampness?” “I’m waitin’ hyuh for Lizzie Cole to come,” Lethe answered, quietly. “Settin’ out hyuh on-cuncerned, waitin’ for ole loud-mouth Lizzie; an’ Aun’ Fisky an’ evvybody waitin’ yonder for you to come to Gussie wake; an’ had to git me to come see w’at keepin’ you?” He complained. “W’at kind o’ game dis is you play’n, inny-way?” He demanded with mock seriousness. “You ain’ inten’ to go to de wake tonight?” “I gotta wait hyuh till Lizzie come wid dem chickens, befo’ I kin go,” Lethe answered calmly.