Jonah's Gourd Vine by Zora Neale Hurston Page B

love-knot.
    â€œLucy, you pay much ’tention tuh birds?”
    â€œUnhunh. De jay bird say ‘Laz’ness will kill you,’ and he go to hell ev’ry Friday and totes uh grain uh sand in his mouf tuh put out de fire, and den de doves say, ‘Where you been so long?’”
    John cut her short. “Ah don’t mean dat way, Lucy. Whut Ah wants tuh know is, which would you ruther be, if you had yo’ ruthers—uh lark uh flyin’, uh uh dove uh settin’?”
    â€œAh don’t know whut you talkin’ ’bout, John. It mus’ be uh new riddle.”
    â€œNaw ’tain’t, Lucy. Po’ me, Lucy. Ahm uh one wingded bird. Don’t leave me lak dat, Lucy.”
    Suddenly Lucy shouted, “Look, John, de knot is tied right, ain’t it pretty?”
    â€œYeah, Lucy iss sho pretty. We done took and tied dis knot, Miss Lucy, less tie uh ’nother one.”
    â€œYou got mo’ han’kerchiefs in yo’ pocket?”
    â€œNaw. Ah ain’t studyin’ ’bout no hankechers neither. De knot Ah wants tuh tie wid you is de kind dat won’t come uh loose ’til us rises in judgment. You knows mah feelings.”
    â€œHow Ah know whut you got inside yo’ mind?”
    â€œYeah yuh do too. Y’all lady people sho do make it hard fuh us men folks. Look me in de eye Lucy. Kiss me and loose me so Ah kin talk.”
    There was an awkward bumping of mouths. Lucy had had her first kiss.
    â€œLucy, Ah looked up intuh Heben and Ah seen you among de angels right ’round de throne, and when Ah seen you , mah heart swole up and put wings on mah shoulders, and Ah ’gin tuh fly ’round too, but Ah never would uh knowed yo’ name if ole Gab’ull hadn’t uh whispered it tuh me.”
    He extended his hands appealingly.
    â€œMiss Lucy, how ’bout changin’ frum Potts tuh Pearson?”
    â€œYeah, John.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œWhenever you ready fuh me. You know mo’ ’bout dat dan Ah do.”
    â€œHow ’bout on yo’ birthday, Lucy? Us kin make merry fuh uh heap uh things den at de same time.”
    â€œAw right, John.”
    It was coldish on the December night, as Lucy made ready to meet John at the church. She had only finished her wedding-dress the day before, and only her father had seemed to care whether she had one or not. Now the puffed and laced little dress of light gray cashmere lay across the bed with her new shoes and six starchy petticoats loaded down with lace of her own making.
    â€œLucy Ann!” Emmeline bawled from the kitchen.
    â€œWhut, mama?”
    â€œDon’t you answer me no ‘whut’! Ah’ll come in dere and stomp yo’ guts out. Whut you got all dis fiah goin’ fuh?”
    â€œMama, you know Ah got tuh bath mah self ’fo’ Ah put on dese clothes.”
    â€œAh keers nothin’ ’bout no bathin’. ’Nother thing, youdone kilt up fo’ uh mah fryin’-size chickens, madam, and got ’em all cooked.”
    â€œNo’m, Ah ain’t kilt none uh yo’ chickens. Dem wuz mah own Ah kilt fuh mah weddin’.”
    â€œHow come dey yourn? You stinkin’ li’l’ heifer you!”
    â€œâ€™Cause dem is some uh Lay-over’s biddies dat Ah raised. Papa gimme dat hen las’ year, and tole me tuh start raisin’ mahself some chickens, so’s Ah have uh good start when Ah git married, and you know Ah got twenty odd from her now.”
    â€œYouse uh lie, madam. Eve’y chicken on dis place is mines. Ah woulda give yuh uh few fuh seed if you wuz marryin’ anybody. Here Artie Mimms is wid sixty acres under plow and two mules and done ast me fuh yuh ever since yuh wuz ten years old and Ah done tole ’im he could have yuh and here you is jumpin’ up, goin’ over mah head, and marryin’ uh nigger dat ain’t hardly got changin’