Hattie McDaniel: Mom Beck

The Little Colonel

Mom Beck

Miss Lloyd Sherman: Mom Beck, why do they dunk the women in the river that way?
Becky Porter: That's to save their souls and wash their sins away.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Will it wash my sins away?
Becky Porter: Well, honey, you ain't got no sins. You is a little angel.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Well, would it wash my sins away if I had any?
Becky Porter: Yes, honey. If you carried the right thought and believed it would.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Were you ever dunked, Mom Beck?
Walker: A little river like that wouldn't do her no good. Child, she needs the Mississippi!

Miss Lloyd Sherman: Mom Beck, why doesn't my grandfather want to come in and see my mother?
Becky Porter: Well, he mighty mad at she, and I guess she mad at he.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Why?
Becky Porter: Your grandfather get mad when your mama marry your daddy.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: But he's her papa, isn't he?
Becky Porter: Sure 'nough.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Aren't papas supposed to love their little girls?
Becky Porter: Yes, honey, they should.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: It seems might funny to me.
Becky Porter: It's 'cause all the Lloyds are stubborn. The old colonel is, your mama is, and you is.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: I'm not stubborn! Don't you call me that!
Becky Porter: Don't you stomp your foot at me. That don't change it, that just proves it.

Miss Lloyd Sherman: Don't you dare poke with that old stick!
Col. Lloyd: You'd better learn some respect for your elders.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: I won't respect anyone who pokes me with a stick!
Col. Lloyd: For a little girl, you've got a bad temper!
Miss Lloyd Sherman: That's your fault.
Col. Lloyd: What? Who are you?
Miss Lloyd Sherman: They call me the little colonel.
Col. Lloyd: What under the sun do they call you that for?
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Because I'm so much like you.
Col. Lloyd: What? How are you like me?
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Because I stop my foot when I get mad, and I get all red in the face! I holler back at people, too!
Col. Lloyd: Look at you! You're a pretty sight. What are you running around the country for, like poor white trash? I don't know who your mother is, but whoever she is, she ought to teach you some manners.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: [throwing mud on him] Don't you dare say anything bad about my mother!
Col. Lloyd: Whose child is that?
Becky Porter: How can I tell you, sir, when you don't want nobody to even say her name?
Miss Lloyd Sherman: I'm Lloyd Sherman, that's who I am!
Col. Lloyd: Lloyd Sherman!
Becky Porter: Come on now, child, your mama's mighty worried about you.
Col. Lloyd: I - I didn't know.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Oh, that's all right. Goodbye, Grandfather.

Becky Porter: Looky here, honey, if you don't take your nap like a good little gir, Mom Beck won't bring you along to the baptizin'.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Will there be singing?
Becky Porter: Sure will, honey, and wailin' too.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Then I'll take my nap.
Becky Porter: That's a good little girl.

Walker: Looky here, how is Miss Elizabeth?
Becky Porter: Oh, her health is all right, but I think she worries 'bout Mister Jack. He better come home pretty soon.
Walker: What you mean, you ain't got no m -
[Becky shushes him and points to Lloyd]
Walker: Uh... M-O-N-I-E?
Becky Porter: Not only that, we's 'most outta F-U-D-E.
Walker: Well, looky here, couldn't the K-U-N-E-L give a little L-O-N-E?
Becky Porter: You know Miss Elizabeth wouldn't take nothin' from him. Why, before she'd do that, she'd go to the, uh... the... P-O-H-O-S.
[Walker stops walking and stares at her]
Walker: P-O-H-O-S?
Becky Porter: Yeah, sure, ain't you got no education? The poorhouse!
Walker: Oh, no.
Becky Porter: Yes, indeed.

Miss Lloyd Sherman: Will you tell me a pink story?
Becky Porter: If you ain't the beatinest child I ever seen. When you want to hear a blue story, everything in it has got to be blue. And when you want to hear a green story, everything in it has got to be green.
[laughs]
Becky Porter: Now, I could tell you a *black* story 'bout my first husband...

Elizabeth Lloyd Sherman: Mom Beck, I'm expecting Aunt Sally Tyler for lunch. Will you have enough?
Becky Porter: I don't know if I can stretch one small chicken, but as long as the water's runnin', we'll have soup enough.
Elizabeth Lloyd Sherman: Well, do the best you can.
[Lloyd picks up a cookie]
Elizabeth Lloyd Sherman: Honey, don't eat that now. You'll spoil your lunch.
[Lloyd puts down the cookie]
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Is Aunt Sally Tyler my aunt too?
Elizabeth Lloyd Sherman: She's your great-aunt, dear.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: My great-aunt? Oh, I remember, the big fat one.
Elizabeth Lloyd Sherman: You must be very polite to her, dear. She's coming all the way from Louisville to see us.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: All right, Mother, I will.

Aunt Sally Tyler: Can that be Lloyd that Becky is carrying?
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Hello, Mother! How do you do, Aunt Sally Tyler?
Aunt Sally Tyler: How do you do, dear?
Elizabeth Lloyd Sherman: Where have you been?
Miss Lloyd Sherman: I've been to see my grandfather, and I threw mud on him.
Elizabeth Lloyd Sherman: You threw mud on him?
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Yes, because he poked me with a stick. Then I got mad and he got mad, and we hollered at each other.
Elizabeth Lloyd Sherman: Oh baby, how could you disgrace Mother by going over there looking like a dirty little beggar?
Miss Lloyd Sherman: I didn't beg him for anything.
Elizabeth Lloyd Sherman: You've been a very naughty girl, and you're going to be punished. Becky, take her inside. Give her a bath and put her to bed.
Becky Porter: Yes'm.
Elizabeth Lloyd Sherman: Oh, I'm terribly upset. I wouldn't for worlds have him think I encouraged her in going there.

Miss Lloyd Sherman: Mom Beck?
Becky Porter: What, honey?
Miss Lloyd Sherman: What's a poorhouse?
Becky Porter: Oh, that's the place where they send people who got no money.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Is it nice?
Becky Porter: No, honey. It's a terrible place. The people there wear rags, and all they get to eat is corn dodgers out of tin pans.
Miss Lloyd Sherman: Then I don't want my mother to have to go there.
Becky Porter: Oh, why, honey child, your mother won't never have to go to no poorhouse. We wouldn't let that happen, would we, Brother Walker?
Walker: I should say not.
Becky Porter: Now don't you worry your pretty little head about things like that. The Lord always provides.
Walker: Amen!