“It isn’t the Professor. It’s the sex.”
“Well, don’ you go meddlin’ round wid fruit and gettin’ yo’ hands stained up, jus’ caus’ yo’s mad wid de sex.”
“I have got to do something violent, Ardelia. I am going to jerk the stems off of berries, chop the pits out of cherries, and skin peaches.”
“Laws a-massy, you suttinly is fierce this mohnin’. All right, go ahead, but der ain’t no need of it. I mos’ generally always has put up the fruit for the fam'ly wifout no help.”
“I know you don’t need me, Ardelia, but I need you.”
“Well, chile, heah’s de fust few bushels ob cherries.”
“Bushels? Mercy on us! Are you going to do all those?”
“Yassum. And den some more. Dat’s the Perfessor’s favourite fruit.”
Bambi was promptly enveloped in a huge apron and settled on the back piazza, surrounded with pans and baskets. Ardelia stood by, and handed her things, until she got started.
“Hurry up, and come out, Ardelia. I want you to talk to me and take my mind off of things.”
“I’ll be ‘long, by and by.”
