Jonah's Gourd Vine by Zora Neale Hurston Page A

Emmeline, don’t plow so deep. You puts de shamery on folks. Come on inside and hep Dink fix de dinner. Ahm hongry.”
    â€œNaw, Ah see she done got hard-headed, and Ahm gwine pray fuh her. Hard-headed chillun never come tuh no good end. Mind whut Ah say! Ahm gwine tell God about you, madam.”
    She pulled back the curtain in the parlor so that she could see every move on the porch and prayed.
    â€œO Lawd and our Gawd, You know Ah tries tuh raise mah chillun right and lead ’em in de way dat dey should go, and Lawd You know it ’tain’t right fuh boys and gals tuh be settin’ on top one ’nother; and Lawd You know You said You’d strike disobedient chillun dead in dey tracks, and Lawd make mine humble and obedient, and tuh serve Thee and walk in Thy ways and please tuh make ’em set five feet apart, and when Ah done sung mah last song, done prayed mah last prayer, please suh, Jesus, make up mah dyin’ bed and keep mah chillun’s feet p’inted tuh de starry pole in glory and make’em set five feet ’part. Dese and all other blessin’s Ah ast in Jesus name, Amen, and thang Gawd.”
    â€œAw Emmeline, dat prayer uh yourn ain’t got out de house,” Richard commented, “it’s bumblin’ ’round ’mong de rafters right now and dat’s fur as it’ll ever git.”
    Out on the porch John said softly, “Meet me tuhmorrer ’cross de branch by dat swee’ gum tree ’bout fo’ o’clock.”
    â€œAw right. Aincha goin’ tuh stay and have some dinner wid us?”
    â€œNaw, Ah don’t choose none. Dey got baked chicken at de big house and Ah eats from dere whenever Ah wants tuh. You gointer be sho’ tuh be at our tree?”
    â€œUnhunh.”
    â€œSho now?”
    â€œUnhunh.”
    â€œS’pos’n yo’ mah uh some of de rest of ’em ketch yuh?”
    Lucy threw herself akimbo. “Humph, dey can’t do nothin’ but beat me, and if dey beat me, it sho won’t kill me, and if dey kill me dey sho can’t eat me. Ah’ll be dere jus’ as sho as gun’s iron.”
    â€œâ€™Bye den, Lucy. Sho wisht Ah could smack yo’ lips.”
    â€œWhut’s dat you say, John?”
    â€œOh nothin’. ’Bye. Doan let de booger man ketch yuh.”
    â€œDon’t let ole Raw-Head-and-Bloody-Bones waylay yuh neither.”
    John was at the tree long before Lucy. He was sitting on the knurly-roots tying his handkerchief into a frogknot when he saw her coming diffidently down the hill on the Potts side of the branch. Presently she was standing before him.
    â€œâ€™Lo, Lucy.”
    â€œHello, John. Ah see you fixin’ tuh make soap.”
    â€œWhut make you say dat, Lucy?”
    â€œAh see yuh got yo’ bones piled up.”
    She pointed to his crossed legs and they both laughed immoderately.
    â€œMiss Lucy, uh Lucy, whyn’t yuh have some set down?”
    â€œUnrack yo’ bones den and make room.”
    Lucy sat down. John untied his handkerchief and Lucy plaited rope-grass. John attempted another knot but fumbled it nervously. Lucy caught hold of the handkerchief also.
    â€œLemme he’p yuh wid dat, John. Ah know how tuh tie dat. Heah, you take dem two corners and roll ’em whilst Ah git dese fixed.”
    They both held the handkerchief taut between them. But before the knot could be tied John pulled hard and made Lucy lean towards him.
    â€œLucy, something been goin’ on inside uh me fuh uh long time.”
    Diffidently, “Whut, John?”
    â€œAh don’t know, Lucy, but it boils up lak syrup in de summer time.”
    â€œMaybe you needs some sassafras root tuh thin yo’ blood out.”
    â€œNaw, Lucy, Ah don’t need no sassafras tea. You know whuss de matter wid me—but ack lak you dumb tuh de fack.”
    Lucy suddenly lost her fluency of speech. She worked furiously at the