(ENTER MRS. JAKE ROBERTS, a heavy light brown woman with a basket on her arm. A boy about ten walks beside her carrying a small child about a year old straddle of his back. Her skirts are sweeping the ground. She walks up to the step, puts one foot upon the steps and looks forlornly at all the men, then fixes her look on JOE CLARK.) MRS. ROBERTS. Evenin’, Brother Mayor. CLARK. Howdy do, Mrs. Roberts. How’s yo’ husband? MRS. ROBERTS. (Beginning her professional whine): He ain’t much and I ain’t much and my chillun is poly. We ain’t got ’nough to eat! Lawd, Mr. Clark, gimme a lil piece of side meat to cook us a pot of greens. CLARK. Aw gwan, Sister Roberts. You got plenty bacon home. Last week Jake bought…. MRS. ROBERTS. (Frantically) Lawd, Mist’ Clark, how long you think dat lil piece of meat last me an’ my chillun? Lawd, me and my chillun is _hongry_! God knows, Jake don’t fee-eed me! (MR. CLARK sits unmoved. MRS. ROBERTS advances upon him) Mist’ Clark! CLARK. I God, woman, don’t keep on after me! Every time I look, youse round here beggin’ for everything you see. LIGE. And whut she don’t see she whoops for it just de same. MRS. ROBERTS. (In dramatic begging pose) Mist’ Clark! Ain’t you boin’ do nuthin’ for me? And you see me and my poor chillun is starvin’…. CLARK. (Exasperated rises) I God, woman, a man can’t git no peace wid somebody like you in town. (He goes angrily into the store followed by MRS. ROBERTS. The boy sits down on the edge of the porch sucking the baby’s thumb.) VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS. A piece ’bout dis wide…. VOICE OF CLARK. I God, naw! Yo’ husband done bought you plenty meat, nohow. VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS. (In great anguish) Ow! Mist’ Clark! Don’t you cut dat lil tee-ninchy piece of meat for me and my chillun! (Sound of running feet inside the store.) I ain’t a going to tetch it! VOICE OF CLARK. Well, don’t touch it then. That’s all you’ll git outa me. VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS. (Calmer) Well, hand it chear den. Lawd, me and my chillun is _so_ hongry…. Jake don’t fee-eed me. (She re-enters by door of store with the slab of meat in her hand and an outraged look on her face. She gazes all about her for sympathy.) Lawd, me and my poor chillun is _so_ hongry … and some folks has _every_thing and they’s so _stingy_ and gripin’…. Lawd knows, Jake don’t fee-eed me! (She exits right on this line followed by the boy with the baby on his back.) (All the men gaze behind her, then at each other and shake their heads.) HAMBO. Poor Jake. I’m really sorry for dat man. If she was mine I’d beat her till her ears hung down like a Georgy mule. WALTER THOMAS. I’d beat her till she smell like onions. LIGE. I’d romp on her till she slack like lime. NIXON. I’d stomp her till she rope like okra.