God knows if dat Daisy wuz mine, I'd throw
her down an' put a hundred lashes on her back wid a plow-line. Here
she come in de store Sat'day night (Acts coy and coquettish,
burlesques DAISY'S walk) a wringing and a twisting!
(Enter MRS. BLUNT, left.)
MRS. BLUNT: How y'all sisters?
SISTER THOMAS: Very well, Miz Blunt, how you?
MRS. BLUNT: Oh, so-so.
MRS. TAYLOR: I'm kickin', but not high.
MRS. BLUNT: Well, thank God you still on prayin' ground an' in a Bible
country. Me, I ain't so many today. De niggers got my Daisy's name all
mixed up in dis mess.
MRS. TAYLOR: You musn't mind dat, Sister Blunt. People jus' _will_
talk. They's talkin' in New York an' they's talkin' in Georgy an'
they's talkin' in Italy.
SISTER THOMAS: Chile, if you talk folkses talk, they'll have you in de
graveyard or in Chattahoochee one. You can't pay no 'tention to talk.
MRS. BLUNT: Well, I know one thing. De man or women, chick or child,
grizzly or gray, that tells me to my face anything wrong 'bout _my_
chile, I'm goin' to take _my_ fist (Rolls up right sleeve and gestures
with right fist) and knock they teeth down they throat. (She looks
ferocious) 'Case y'all know I raised my Daisy right round my feet till
I let her go up north last year wid them white folks. I'd ruther her
to be in de white folks' kitchen than walkin' de streets like some of
dese girls round here. If I do say so, I done raised a lady. She can't
help it if all dese mens get stuck on her.
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