Bess sat for a long while without moving. The sun lifted over the high wall, and drove its white-hot tide into her lap, and upon her folded hands. “Wut mek yuh ain’t mobe intuh de shade?” a neighbor asked curiously. Bess looked up and smiled. “I jes’ settin’ hyuh t’inkin’ ’bout muh frien’,” she said. “Yuh done hear um call me ‘Sister,’ ain’t yuh? Berry well den. Dat mean me and she is frien’.” § Bess lay upon the bed in Porgy’s room and stared at the ceiling with hard, bright eyes. From time to time she would pluck at the sheet that covered her and utter hurried, indistinct sentences that bore not the slightest relation to existing circumstances. A week had passed since her release, and its seven interminable days had been spent in this fashion. Porgy was out upon the day’s rounds. Occasionally the door to the sick-room would open, and an awed, black face peer in. The mystery of delirium frightened and perplexed the negroes, and limited the manifestations of kindness and sympathy that they usually bestowed upon unfortunate friends. Even Maria was not proof against this dread, and the irrelevant observations that greeted her when she went in with the daily lunch sent her hurrying wide-eyed from the room. Porgy returned early in the evening. His face was deeply marked, but the lines were those of anxiety, and his characteristic firmness of mouth and jaw was gone. He closed the door on the curious glances of his neighbors, and lifted himself to a seat upon the bed. “How Bess now?” he asked softly. She shifted her gaze from the ceiling to his face. “Eighteen miles tuh Kittiwar!” she muttered. “Rattlesnake’, palmettuh bush, an’ such.” Her eyes were suddenly fearful, and she closed her hand tightly upon his. Porgy cast a hurried glance over his shoulder. Then, reassured, stroked her brow, and comforted her in his deep, gentle voice. “Yuh hyuh wid Porgy now; an’ nuttin’ can’t hurt yuh. Soon de cool wedder comin’ an’ chill off dese febers. Ain’t yuh ’member how dat cool win’ come tuh town wid de smell ob pine tree: an’ how de star is all polish up lak w’ite folks’ silber? Den ebbery body git well. Ain’t yuh know? Yuh jus’ keep still, an’ watch wut Porgy say.” She was silent after that, and closed her eyes. Presently, to his relief, he saw that she was sleeping. This was the moment for which he had been waiting. He went out, closing the door very gently, and joined a group of sympathisers in the court. “Wut we goin’ do now?” he asked. “A week gone, an’ she ain’t none better.” Peter knocked out his clay pipe on a flagstone, with three staccato little raps, thus gaining the attention of the circle. “Ef yuh wants tuh listen tuh me,” he remarked weightily, “I adwise yer tuh sen’ she tuh de w’ite folk’ hospital.” His words were received with a surprise amounting to incredulity. “Fuh Gawd sake, Daddy Peter!” an awed voice said at last. “Ain’t yuh knows dey lets nigger die dey, so dey kin gib um tuh de student?”