A dilapidated porch across the front of the residence had no roof and
the floorboards were so badly rotted that it did not seem quite safe to
walk from the steps to the front door where Cordelia stood waiting.
"Come right in, Missy," she invited, "but be keerful not to fall through
dat old porch floor." The tall, thin Negress was clad in a faded but
scrupulously clean blue dress, a white apron, and a snowy headcloth
crowned by a shabby black hat. Black brogans completed her costume.
Cordelia led the way to the rear of a narrow hall. "Us will be cooler
back here," she explained. Sunlight poured through gaping holes in the
roof, and the coarse brown wrapping paper pasted on the walls was
splattered and streaked by rain. The open door of Cordelia's bedroom
revealed a wooden bed, a marble-topped bureau, and a washstand of the
Victorian period. A rocker, two straight chairs, a small table, and a
trunk completed the furnishings of the room and left but little space
for its occupant to move about.

"I'se jus' a mite tired," Cordelia stated, "'cause I jus' got back from
de courthouse whar dem welfare 'omans done gimme a sack o' flour and
some other bundles what I ain't opened up yit, but I knows dey's got
somepin in 'em to holp me, 'cause dem folks is sho' been mighty good to
me since my rheumatiz is been so bad I couldn't wuk enough to make a
livin'. De doctor, he say I got de blood presser. I don't rightly know
jus' what dat is, but it looks lak somepin's a-pressin' right down in my
haid 'til I feels right foolish, so I reckon he's right 'bout it a-bein
de blood presser. When I gits down on my knees it takes a long time for
me to git straight up on my feet again. De Lord, He's done been wid me
all dese years, and old Cordelia's goin' to keep right on kneelin' 'fore
Him and praisin' Him often 'til He 'cides de time has come for her to go
home to Heben.