Read Online A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines - Free Book Online Page A

good job, Higgins,” he said.
    â€œI do the best I can with what I have to work with, Dr. Joseph,” I said. “I don’t have all the books I need. In some classes I have two children studying out of one book. And even with that, some of the pages in the book are missing. I need more paper to write on, I need more chalk for the blackboards, I need more pencils, I even need a better heater.”
    â€œWe’re all in the same shape, Higgins,” he said.
    I didn’t answer him.
    â€œI said we’re all in the same shape, Higgins, the white schools just as much as the colored schools. We take what the state gives us, and we make the best of it.”
    â€œMany of the books I have to use are hand-me-downs from the white schools, Dr. Joseph,” I said. “And they have missing pages. How can I—”
    â€œAre you questioning me, Higgins?”
    â€œNo, sir, Dr. Joseph. I was just—”
    â€œThank you, Higgins.”
    He started to get back into his car. It was harder to do than getting out, because he was upset with me now.
    â€œMore drill on the flag, Higgins,” he said, through the rolled-down window. “More emphasis on hygiene.”
    â€œSome of these children have never seen a toothbrush before coming to school, Dr. Joseph.”
    â€œWell, isn’t that your job, Higgins?”
    â€œYes, sir, I suppose so. But then I would have to buy them.”
    â€œCan’t they work?” he asked me. “Look at all the pecan trees.” He waved his hand toward the yards. “I wager you can count fifty trees right here in the quarter. Back in the field, back in the pasture, you can count another hundred, two hundred trees. Get them off their lazy butts, they can make enough for a dozen toothbrushes in one evening.”
    â€œThat money usually goes to helping the family, Dr. Joseph.”
    â€œThen you tell the family about health,” he said, looking out of the rolled-down window to let me know that his visit was over. “I have another school to visit. All this running around ’nough to give a man a heart attack.”
    He drove away. I stood there until he had turned his car around and started back up the quarter. I waved at him, but he did not wave back.

8
    THE WEEK AFTER the superintendent paid his visit to the school we got our first load of wood for winter. Two old men brought the wagonload about eleven o’clock that morning. We did not have a gate wide enough for the wagon to come through, so the men came into the yard next door to the church. One got down off the wagon to open the gate, and the other drove the wagon into the yard. I could not see them, but I could hear them. They were joking about the mules, the wood, and the weather. One of them said, “Don’t let Bird hang us up in that ditch, now. I don’t feel like unloading all this wood ’way out here and got to put it on that wagon again.”
    â€œShe go’n pull,” the other one said. “Hi, there, Bird, get them shoulders in there.”
    I heard the wagon cross the ditch and enter the yard.
    â€œAll right,” I said to the class. “The first one who looks outside will spend an hour in the corner. They can do pretty well without you.”
    The wagon came farther into the yard on the other side of the fence, passing the church windows. I could see the two mules—one big and red, the other small and dark brown with long, droopy ears—pulling hard into the chains. Then I saw the long poles of wood stacked high upon the wagon, with one of the old men riding atop the wood while the other, the one who had opened the gate, walked alongside the wagon. They were still joking and laughing.
    â€œLouis Washington junior, get back into that corner and face the wall.”
    â€œBut, Mr. Wiggins, now you was looking out that window too, now. I seen you.”
    â€œJust out of the corner of my eye,” I said.
    â€œNow, I was