Lizzie arrived with a great bunch of squawking chickens in each hand. Seeing the gate closed, and unable to help herself, she called out boisterously: “Whah y’all done lef’ yo’ manners, you can’t come hyuh an’ open dis gate an’ lemme in? You wan’ leave me stay out hyuh all night helpless? Wid all dis mighty roocus dese crazy chickens raisin’ right hyuh in front Lethe door?... Come open dis gate, for Gawd sake. Befo’ some dese inquiztun w’ite folks run up hyuh an’ try to ’res’ Lizzie for robbin’ people hen-roos’ after hours like dis is.... Stop yo’ grinnin’, an’ come hyuh an’ gimme a han’,” she commanded. Felo hurried to open the gate and let her in, and Lethe led the way to the back yard; both of them laughing heartily at Lizzie’s amusing speech and the antics she performed as she deposited the squawking chickens on the ground. Felo helped her untie the strings from their feet, and after they were put away for the night and Lethe saw that the chicken house door was made fast, the party went into the kitchen and sat down to talk. After scanning the room inquisitively, Lizzie got up and helped herself to a dipper of water from the bucket standing on the table; then kicked off her shoes and made herself ready to enjoy any form of entertainment the night would offer. Seeing that she was in a loquacious humor, Lethe encouraged her to talk of Chester; knowing how curious Felo was to learn something of his whereabouts. At the mention of his name, Felo asked if Chester was going to the wake. “No,” Lizzie answered quietly; then added with a grandiloquent air, that Mr. Frackshun was trav’lin’. “To Lafourche?” Felo inquired. “No. To furren parts,” Lizzie told him, enigmatically. “To the sugar-grindin’?” Felo persisted. No. Mr. Frackshun didn’t care nothin’ ’bout playin’ in a cane field; Lizzie informed him facetiously. Mr. Frackshun said he found cuttin’ cane too bitterly against the constitution.... ’Tain’ everybody kin stand it like wimmins bin use to it.... An’ innyway, Mr. Frackshun said he was afraid of his feets gittin’ fros’-bitten, cold mawnin’s like they had in the country.... And a cane-knife was such a dang’us-lookin’ weepon, Mr. Frackshun said he couldn’t see how he was goin’ to git use to totin’ one....