Read Online Come Along with Me by Shirley Jackson - Free Book Online

shouldn’t do her work. But I tell you, Miz Taylor, Tootie’s had a hard time. Her father threw her out of the house when she was eighteen—”
    â€œWhen she was
eighteen!
” Julie said. We had estimated Tootie’s age as approximately fourteen.
    â€œYeah,” Bud said, “and she’s been living with us ever since, because I’m sort of her boy friend, and she ought to be treated right. So you just be careful of her, Miz Taylor, and she’ll turn out fine, I promise you.”
    â€œI’d hate to send her back to live with your family, Bud,” Julie said, “and I guess I’ll have to give her one more chance, except that—”
    â€œYou’re not going to give her any more chances,” Bud said finally. “Tootie
likes
it here, and I guess she won’t want to move back with us. She doesn’t like my mother, and so I guess she’ll sort of figure on staying here, so I guess you’ll have to sort of make it up with her.”
    â€œI see,” Julie said feverishly. “She won’t want to leave.”
    â€œNo’m,” Bud said, “she honest to God won’t.”
    As a test Julie put the matter of leaving up to Tootie, as tactfully as possible, and Tootie smiled prettily and shrugged. “The way I see it, Miz Taylor,” she said, “you people have been mighty nice to me, and I better stick around.”
    â€œBut, Tootie,” Julie explained, “I may have to get someone else to do your work.”
    â€œThat’s all right,” Tootie said, “if you can afford it.”
    â€œYour family—” Julie began.
    â€œThey don’t really mind,” Tootie reassured her. “My father says you people are German spies, but I don’t much care. Way I see it, it’s your business.”
    â€œI thought you didn’t see your father?” Julie asked. German spies or not, she was thinking, maybe we could give M’Tootie back.
    â€œI see him some,” Tootie said. “Bud drives me out there. He thinks you’re German spies, too, Bud does, but, like I say, I don’t mind.”
    â€œWhy?” Julie asked. “Why does he think we’re German spies?”
    â€œOh,” Tootie waved her hand vaguely. Then she said brightly: “Maybe because you stay up so late, with the lights on, you know, and then you have so much money, and no husband.”
    â€œYou’ve met Mr. Taylor,” Julie said between her teeth, “he comes up from Boston week ends. You’ve met him.”
    Tootie grinned generously. “Yeah,” she said. “Sure.”
    Before Julie had worked up her courage to call in assistance and put Tootie out, Tootie solved the situation in her own peculiar fashion. After she had been with Julie for some three or four weeks, she came down to breakfast one morning just as Julie was finishing the dishes, and indicated by sitting down at the table and lighting a cigarette that she wanted to talk. Julie, who by that time was exerting every ounce of will power she possessed to ignore Tootie and go on about her own business until the happy day when she and Tootie could part company, refused to turn around until Tootie spoke.
    â€œHey,” Tootie said, banging the ash tray on the table to get attention, “hey, Miz Taylor?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œLook.” Tootie seemed unusually embarrassed. “Tell me this stuff about babies.”
    Julie half turned. “What about babies?”
    â€œWell . . .” Tootie shuffled her feet. “I mean, about babies, and, like, what you do to get them.”
    Julie told me later that the only thought in her mind was, “This is what they always told me happened with hired girls, this is what they always told me—but not Tootie; how could it happen to Tootie?” accompanied by a deep unchanging joy which she made no attempt to analyze. She endeavored to answer Tootie