"But if you all need to eat until your mother is well, all you have to do is say so.

" She mentioned

her church's committee invented so nobody had to go hungry. That agitated her guest who said,

"No, no," as though asking for help from strangers was worse than hunger. Lady Jones said

goodbye to her and asked her to come back anytime. "Anytime at all." Two days later Denver

5 stood on the porch and noticed something lying on the tree stump at the edge of the yard. She

went to look and found a sack of white beans. Another time a plate of cold rabbit meat. One

morning a basket of eggs sat there. As she lifted it, a slip of paper fluttered down. She picked it

up and looked at it. "M. Lucille Williams" was written in big crooked letters. On the back was a

blob of flour-water paste. So Denver paid a second visit to the world outside the porch, although

10 all she said when she returned the basket was "Thank you." "Welcome," said M. Lucille

Williams. Every now and then, all through the spring, names appeared near or in gifts of food.

Obviously for the return of the pan or plate or basket; but also to let the girl know, if she cared

to, who the donor was, because some of the parcels were wrapped in paper, and though there

was nothing to return, the name was nevertheless there. Many had X's with designs about

15 them, and Lady Jones tried to identify the plate or pan or the covering towel. When she could

only guess, Denver followed her directions and went to say thank you anyway whether she had

the right benefactor or not. When she was wrong, when the person said, "No, darling. That's not

my bowl. Mine's got a blue ring on it," a small conversation took place. All of them knew her

grandmother and some had even danced with her in the Clearing. Others remembered the days

20 when 124 was a way station, the place they assembled to catch news, taste oxtail soup, leave

their children, cut out a skirt. One remembered the tonic mixed there that cured a relative. One

showed her the border of a pillowslip, the stamens of its pale blue flowers French-knotted in

Baby Suggs' kitchen by the light of an oil lamp while arguing the Settlement Fee. They

remembered the party with twelve turkeys and tubs of strawberry smash.” (Morrison 292-293)