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“Me neither,” confessed Sister Sarah.

“Jes’ ain’t never seem to me no ’mount of prayin’ is did nothin’ to change white folks,” said Uncle Pompey.

“De Bible say Joseph was sol’ a slave to de Egyptians, but de Lawd was wid Joseph, an’ de Lawd blessed de Egyptians’ house for Joseph’s sake,” Matilda said in a matter-of-fact manner.

Three glances, quickly exchanged, expressed their steadily mounting respect for the young woman.

“Dat George tol’ us yo’ first massa a preacher,” said Sister Sarah. “You soun’ like a preacher yo’se’f!”

“I’se a servant o’ de Lawd, dat’s all,” replied Matilda.

Her prayer meetings began the following Sunday, two days after Chicken George and Massa Lea had gone off in the wagon with twelve gamecocks.

“Massa say he finally got de right birds to go fight where de big money is,” he explained, saying that this time the Lea birds would be competing in an important “main” somewhere near Goldsboro.

One morning when they were out in the field, carefully employing a gentle tone that suggested the sympathy of a forty-seven-year-old woman for a new bride of eighteen, Sister Sarah said, “Lawdy, honey, I ’spect yo’ married life gwine be split up twixt you an’ dem chickens.”

Matilda looked at her squarely. “What I done always heared, an’ b’lieved, is anybody’s marriage jes’ what dey makes it. An’ I reckon he know what kin’ he want our’n to be.”

But having established her stand about marriage, Matilda would readily share in any conversation about, her colorful husband, whether it was humorous or serious in nature.

“He done had itchy foots since he was a crawlin’ baby,” Kizzy told her one night, visiting in the new cabin.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Matilda, “I figgered dat when he come a-courtin’. He wouldn’t talk ’bout hardly nothin’ ’cept rooster fightin’ an’ him an’ de massa travelin’ somewheres.” Hesitating, she then added in her frank way, “But when he foun’ out weren’t no man gwine have his way wid me ’fo’ we’d jumped a broom, Lawd, he had a fit! Fact, one time I give up on seein’ ’im again. Don’t know what hit ’im, but I like to fell out de night he come a-rushin’ in an’ say, ‘Look, let’s us git hitched!”

“Well, I’se sho’ glad he had de sense!” said Kizzy. “But now you’s hitched, gal, I’se gwine tell you straight what’s on my min’. I wants me some gran’chilluns!”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong wid dat, Miss Kizzy. ’Cause I wants me some young’uns, too, same as other womens haves.”

When Matilda announced two months later that she was in a family way, Kizzy was beside herself. Thinking about her son becoming a father made her think about her father—more than she had in many years—and one evening when Chicken George was away again, Kizzy asked, “Is he ever mentioned anything to you’bout his gran’pappy?”

“No’m, he ain’t.” Matilda looked puzzled.

“He ain’t?” Seeing the older woman’s disappointment, Matilda added quickly, “Reckon he jes’ ain’t got to it yet, Mammy Kizzy.”

Deciding that she’d better do it herself, since she remembered more than he did anyway, Kizzy began telling Matilda of her life at Massa Waller’s for sixteen years until her sale to Massa Lea, and most of what she had to say was about her African pappy and the many things he had told to her. “Tilda, how come I’se tellin’ you all dis, I jes’ wants you to understan’ how I wants dat chile in yo’ belly an’ any mo’ you has to know all ’bout ’im, too, on ’count of he’s dey great-gran’daddy.”

“I sho’ does understan’, Mammy Kizzy,” said Matilda, whereupon her mother-in-law told yet more of her memories, with both of them feeling their closeness growing throughout the rest of the evening.

Chicken George’s and Matilda’s baby boy was born during the spring of 1828, with Sister Sarah serving as the midwife, assisted by a nervous Kizzy. Her joy about having a grandchild at last tempered her anger that the boy’s father was yet again off somewhere for a week with Massa Lea. The following evening, when the new mother felt up to it, everyone on slave row gathered