He didn't look like much at first, but hush!"
"He seed de power en de glory."
"Yes, suh. He seed hit.
Face to face he seed hit."
Dilsey made no sound, her face did not quiver as the tears took their sunken and devious courses, walking with her head up, making no effort to dry them away even.
"Whyn't you quit dat, mammy?" Frony said. "Wid all dese people lookin.
We be passin white folks soon."
"I've seed de first en de last," Dilsey said. "Never you mind me."
"First en last whut?" Frony said.
"Never you mind," Dilsey said. "I seed de beginnin, en now I sees de endin."
Before they reached the street though she stopped and lifted her skirt and dried her eyes on the hem of her topmost underskirt.
Then they went on.
Ben shambled along beside Dilsey, watching Luster who anticked along ahead, the umbrella in his hand and his new straw hat slanted viciously in the sunlight, like a big foolish dog watching a small clever one.
They reached the gate and entered.
Immediately Ben began to whimper again, and for a while all of them looked up the drive at the square, paintless house with its rotting portico.
"Whut's gwine on up dar today?" Frony said. "Somethin is."
"Nothin," Dilsey said. "You tend to yo business en let de whitefolks tend to deir'n."
"Somethin is," Frony said. "I heard him first thing dis mawnin.
'Taint none of my business, dough."
"En I knows whut, too," Luster said.
"You knows mo den you got any use fer," Dilsey said. "Aint you jes heard Frony say hit aint none of yo business?
You take Benjy on to de back and keep him quiet swell I put dinner on."
"I knows whar Miss Quentin is," Luster said.
"Den jes keep hit," Dilsey said. "Soon es Quentin need any of yo egvice, I'll let you know.
Y'all g'awn en play in de back, now."
"You know whut gwine happen soon es dey start playin dat ball over yonder," Luster said.
"Dey wont start fer a while yit. By dat time T. P. be here to take him ridin.
Here, you gimme dat new hat."
Luster gave her the hat and he and Ben went on across the back yard.
Ben was still whimpering, though not loud. Dilsey and Frony went to the cabin.
After a while Dilsey emerged, again in the faded calico dress, and went to the kitchen.
The fire had died down.
There was no sound in the house.
She put on the apron and went up stairs.
There was no sound anywhere.
Quentin's room was as they had left it.
She entered and picked up the undergarment and put the stocking back in the drawer and closed it.
Mrs Compson's door was closed.
Dilsey stood beside it for a moment, listening.
Then she opened it and entered, entered a pervading reek of camphor.
The shades were drawn, the room in halflight, and the bed, so that at first she thought Mrs Compson was asleep and was about to close the door when the other spoke.
"Well?" she said. "What is it?"
"Hit's me," Dilsey said. "You want anything?"
Mrs Compson didn't answer.
After a while, without moving her head at all, she said:
"Where's Jason?"
"He aint come back yit," Dilsey said. "Whut you want?"
Mrs Compson said nothing.
Like so many cold, weak people, when faced at last by the incontrovertible disaster she exhumed from somewhere a sort of fortitude, strength.
In her case it was an unshakable conviction regarding the yet unplumbed event.