"Tell them up there they already been fed," the jailer said. "There ain't anything wrong with them, either. The doctor checked out both of them."

"Mr. Dave," she said again. Her voice was low, as though she were speaking in church.

"I can't help, Tante Lemon," I said.

"He was at my little house. He didn't kill no redbone," she said.

"Somebody's going to take her home," the jailer said.

"I told all them people, Mr. Dave. They ain't listen to me. What for they gonna listen an old nigger woman worked Miz Hattie's crib? That's what they say. Old nigger putain lyin' for Tee Beau."

"His lawyer's going to appeal. There are a lot of things that can be done yet," I said. I kept waiting for the elevator doors to open.

"They gonna electrocute that boy," she said.

"Tante Lemon, I can't do anything about it," I said.

Her eyes wouldn't leave my face. They were small and wet and unblinking, like a bird's.

I saw Lester smiling to himself.

"A car's going to take you home," the jailer said to her.

"What for I goin' home, me? Be home by myself in my little house?" she answered.

"You fix something hot, you get out of them wet clothes," the jailer said. "Then tomorrow you talk to Tee Beau's lawyer, like Mr. Dave says."

"Mr. Dave know better," she said. "They gonna burn that little boy, and he ain't done nothing wrong. That redbone pick on him, make fun of him in front of people, work him so hard he couldn't eat when he got home. I fix chicken and rice, everything nice, just the way he like it. He sit down all dirty at the table and stare at it, put it in his mouth like it ain't nothing but a bunch of dry bean. I tell him go wash his face and arm, then he gonna eat. But he say, 'I tired, Gran'maman. I cain't eat when I tired.' I say, 'Tomorrow Sunday, you gonna sleep tomorrow, you, then you gonna eat.' He say, 'He comin' for me in the morning. We got them field to cut.'