【正文】 y snuff and it gave her face a kind of dopey, hangdog look. It was Grandma Dee and Big Dee who taught her how to quilt herself. She stood there with her scarred hands hidden in the folds of her skirt. She looked at her sister with something like fear but she wasn39。re priceless! she was saying now, furiously, for she has a temper. Maggie would put them on the bed and in five years they39。em. I hope she will! ” I didn39。t appreciate these quilts! she said. She39。s not the point, said Wanglero. These are all pieces of dresses Grandma used to wear. She did all this stitching by hand. Imagine! She held the quilts securely in her arms, stroking them.　　Some of the pieces, like those lavender ones, e from old clothes her mother handed down to her,” I said, moving up to touch the quilts. Dee (Wangero) moved back just enough so that I couldn39。t want those. They are stitched around the borders by machine.　　That39。s uniform that he wore in the Civil War.　　Mama, Wangero said sweet as a bird. Can I have these old quilts?　　I heard something fall in the kitchen, and a minute later the kitchen door slammed.　　Why don39。 you could see where thumbs and fingers had sunk into the wood. It was beautiful light yellow wood, from a tree that grew in the yard where Big Dee and Stash had lived.　　After dinner Dee (Wangero) went to the trunk at the foot of my bed and started rifling through it. Maggie hung back in the kitchen over the dishpan. Out came Wangero with two quilts. They had been pieced by Grandma Dee and then Big Dee and me had hung them on the quilt frames on the front porch and quilted them. One was in the Lone Star pattern. The other was Walk Around the Mountain. In both of them were scraps of dresses Grandma Dee had worn fifty and more years ago. Bit sand pieces of Grandpa Jarrell39。20090930 18:56 When she finished wrapping the dasher the handle stuck out. I took it for a moment in my hands. You didn39。ll think of something artistic to do with the dasher.　　回答人的補(bǔ)充 t hear her. His name was Henry, but they called him Stash.　　Maggie39。t Uncle Buddy whittle it out of a tree you all used to have?　　Yes, I said.　　Uh huh, she said happily. And I want the dasher,too.　　Uncle Buddy whittle that, too? asked the barber.　　Dee (Wangero) looked up at me.　　Aunt Dee39。s butter dish. That39。t eat collards and pork was unclean. Wangero, though, went on through the chitlins and corn bread, the greens and everything else. She talked a blue streak over the sweet potatoes. Everything delighted her. Even the fact that we still used the benches her daddy made for the table when we couldn39。t tell me, and I didn39。t ask.　　You must belong to those beetcattle peoples down the road, I said. They said Asalamalakirn when they met you too, but they didn39。ll get used to it, I said. Ream it out again.　　Well, soon we got the name out of the way. Asalamalakim had a name twice as long and three times as hard. After I tripped over it two or three times he told me to just call him Hakimabarber. I wanted to ask him was he a barber, but I didn39。s what you want us to call you, we39。t want to, said Wangero.　　Why shouldn39。 cropped up in our family, so why should I try to trace it that far back?　　He just stood there grinning, looking down on me like somebody inspecting a Model A car. Every once in a while he and Wangero sent eye signals over my head.　　How do you pronounce this name? I asked.　　You don39。s about as far back as I can trace it, I said.　　Though, in fact, I probably could have carried it back beyond the Civil War through the branches.　　Well, said Asalamalakim, there you are.　　Uhnnnh, I heard Maggie say.　　There I was not, I said, before 39。s dead, Wangero said. I couldn39。Dee39。Dee39。s hand is as limp as a fish, and probably as cold, despite the sweat, and she keeps trying to pull it back. It looks like Asalamalakim wants to shake hands but wants to do it fancy. Or maybe he don39。t get up, says Dee. Since I am stout it takes something of a push. You can see me trying to move a second or two before I make it. She turns, showing white heels through her sandals, and goes back to the car. Out she peeks next with a Polaroid. She stoops down quickly and lines up picture after picture of me sitting there in front of the house with Maggie cowering behind me. She never takes a shot without making sure the house is included. When a cow es nibbling around the edge of the yard she snaps it and me and Maggie and the house. Then she puts the Polaroid in the back seat of the car, and es up and kisses me on the forehead.　　Meanwhile Asalamalakim is going through motions with Maggie39。t have much time to pay to us, but turned all her faultfinding power on him. He flew to marry a cheap city girl from a family of ignorant flashy people. She hardly had time to repose herself.　　When she es I will meet but there they are!Maggie attempts to make a dash for the house, in her shuffling way, but I stay her with my hand. Come back here, I say. And she stops and tries to dig a well in the sand with her toe.　　It is hard to see them clearly through the strong sun. But even the first glimpse of leg out of the car tells me it is Dee. Her feet were always neatlooking, as it God himself had shaped them with a certain style. From the other side of the car es a short, stocky man. Hair is all over his head a foot long and hanging from his chin like a kinky mule tail. I hear Maggie suck in her breath. Uhnnnh, is what it sounds like. Li