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some beans once on de wrong time of de moon and ey didn’ bear
nothing – I hated it so bad, I didn’ know what to do, so I been
mindful ever since when I plant. Women peoples come down on de
moon, too. I ain’t know no signs to raise chillun. I whup mine
when dey didn’ do right, I sho’ did. I didn’ ‘low my chillun to
take nothin’ – no aigs and nothin’ ‘tall and bring ‘em to my house.
I say ‘put dem right whar you git ‘em.”
	“Did you sing spirituals, Nancy?”
	“I sang regular meetin’ songs,” she said, “like ‘lay dis body
down’ and ‘let yo’ joys be known’ – but I can’t sing now, not any
mo’.”
	Nancy was proud of her quilt-making ability.
	“Git ‘um, Vanna, let de ladies see ‘um,” she said; and when 
Vanna brought the gay pieces made up in a “double-burst” (sunburst) 
pattern, Nancy fingered the squares with loving fingers. “Hit’s
pooty, ain’t it?” she asked wistfully, “I made one for a white lady
two years ago, but dey hurts my fingers now – makes ‘em stiff.”