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From her walk, a rhythmical swing, arms swinging in front and head held so erect and from the fact that her skirt was girded up to give her legs freedom of action, I guessed she belonged in the Free Woods or somewhere lower down, so I stopped my car.
"Auntie, where you going?"
"Burgess postoffice, Missus."
"Walking home from Conway?"
"Yes, Missus!"
"Get in. We're going your way. This Doctor sister."
"You the doctor sister? I see duh fabor. Tank God missus. Yonneh stay to Flagg sea-shore?"
Her hair was not plaited, but the strands were tightly bound in white twine. The braids were so tight they bristled off at various angles. It developed that she had been to town to see the doctor. Having been sick ("Had the dissipate, Missus") she had ridden up with the rural delivery mail. The mail-man left her - for what reason she could not make clear - and so she "Took her foot in her hand and was walking thirty long, tedious miles, though she had been sick with the 'dissipate' for five months. Her only burden or bundle was a bottle of 'doctor's medicine.' (To distinguish it from home remedies and peddlers' medicine - patent remedies that are peddled and 'recommend to cure any disease.')
As we rode along it was readily learned that this was Aunt Martha's first ride in a car. She kept exclaiming at the rate we were covering ground. And it was some miles before she relaxed and began to make conversation. The sun was getting low and that furnished her with a theme.
"If I know you been go take me by Miss Oliver I sho like to look at she fowl. Robinson Nesbit got a fool boy, Bannister, - kinder cracky. (Cracked brain). Him carry duh fowl. Dat a fool boy. Fasten up the fowl every night. Gone in coop. Call up chicken. Tree (three) gone! Aint eat 'em. Aint sell 'em. Myself. Tief my chicken! Going debt 'em! Going debt 'em! (Law 'em) Can't debt 'em less you see 'em. Got to carry eye witness to law. Can't carry reckon so and guess!
"Missus, I sho like to get home fore duh sun gone. Got to truss duh chicken up.
"Robert Jones he too fool. Nesbit fool boy Bannister go in my fowl house and truss up my chicken and sell to Robert, and Robert fetch 'em to the white people. I know my fowl anywhere. Him going tell me how him come by duh fowl. Him a fool boy. Aint eat 'em myself. Aint sell 'em. If I ketch 'em, I going debt 'em!"
Martha Cox - Age about 70
Murrells Inlet, S.C.
