eighty-four            

            Tessie, Beulah, Marisee been visitin' my mem'ry—mos'ly Tessie 'coun' Zach'ry mention de malaria carry off her chile. Fo' a long while Tess don' let on her puff' up—scairt o' Mistah Tunedough claim' her scairt o' Beulah. I knows better; Beulah mayhap fiery but her don' burn. Mistah Tune de one. De whole plantation terrifie' o' runnin' 'foul o' him. Fiel'han's nevah pray so har' dan fo' de Massah let go dat ovahseer. I ask' Zach'ry iffen Mistah Tune took by de malaria. Him say no, den turn gloomy, so I don' say nuffin' mo'e. Seem Mistah Tune like a bad tooff Zach'ry needs have out—long as him employ' de worse dat tooff gwon hurt.

            I turns gloomy, too, thinkin' how fok's likely ack, fine out Jewel set free whilest dey still boun' by slav'ry. Resen'ful, mayhap. Jealous. Mist'ess sho 'nuff green. What my place gwon be? Out here by ourse'ves life simple, like bein' man an' wife. Soon 's us back in de real worl'... Where Jewel sleep? What cho'es her gwon do? Who have de say-so? How hide de fac' Zach'ry's chile 'bout to bus' out from dis belly? Doom' is what I 'spectin'. Ev'thin' bleak and black. Zach'ry say "Don' worry"; Jewel b'lieve Hell in sto'e.