it?”
“No,” Gowan said, “I dont.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Van said.
“Van,” Goodwin said.
“Do you think you’re big enough to not like it?” Van said.
“I am,” Goodwin said.
When Van went back to the kitchen Tommy followed him. He stopped at the door and heard Van in the kitchen.
“Come for a walk, little bit,” Van said.
“Get out of here, Van,” the woman said.
“Come for a little walk,” Van said. “I’m a good guy. Ruby’ll tell you.”
“Get out of here, now,” the woman said. “Do you want me to call Lee?” Van stood against the light, in a khaki shirt and breeches, a cigarette behind his ear against the smooth sweep of his blond hair. Beyond him Temple stood behind the chair in which the woman sat at the table, her mouth open a little, her eyes quite black.
When Tommy went back to the porch with the jug he said to Goodwin: “Why dont them fellers quit pesterin that gal?”
“Who’s pestering her?”
“Van is. She’s skeered. Whyn’t they leave her be?”
“It’s none of your business. You keep out of it. You hear?”
“Them fellers ought to quit pesterin her,” Tommy said. He squatted against the wall. They were drinking, passing the jug back and forth, talking. With the top of his mind he listened to them, to Van’s gross and stupid tales of city life, with rapt interest, guffawing now and then, drinking in his turn. Van and Gowan were doing the talking, and Tommy listened to them. “Them two’s fixin to have hit out with one another,” he whispered to Goodwin in a chair beside him. “Hyear em?” They were talking quite loud; Goodwin moved swiftly and lightly from his chair, his feet striking the floor with light thuds; Tommy saw Van standing and Gowan holding himself erect by the back of his chair.
“I never meant—” Van said.
“Dont say it, then,” Goodwin said.
Gowan said something. That durn feller, Tommy thought. Cant even talk no more.
“Shut up, you,” Goodwin said.
“Think talk bout my—” Gowan said. He moved, swayed against the chair. It fell over. Gowan blundered into the wall.
“By God, I’ll—” Van said.
“—ginia gentleman; I dont give a—” Gowan said. Goodwin flung him aside with a backhanded blow of his arm, and grasped Van. Gowan fell against the wall.
“When I say sit down, I mean it,” Goodwin said.
After that they were quiet for a while. Goodwin returned to his chair. They began to talk again, passing the jug, and Tommy listened. But soon he began to think about Temple again. He would feel his feet scouring on the floor and his whole body writhing in an acute discomfort. “They ought to let that gal alone,” he whispered to Goodwin. “They ought to quit pesterin her.”
“It’s none of your business,” Goodwin said. “Let every damned one of them.……”
“They ought to quit pesterin her.”
Popeye came out the door. He lit a cigarette. Tommy watched his face flare out between his hands, his cheeks sucking; he followed with his eyes the small comet of the match into the weeds. Him too, he said. Two of em; his body writhing slowly. Pore little crittur. I be dawg ef I aint a mind to go down to the barn and stay there, I be dawg ef I aint. He rose, his feet making no sound on the porch. He stepped down into the path and went around the house.There was a light in the window there. Dont nobody never use in there, he said, stopping, then he said, That’s where she’ll be stayin, and he went to the window and looked in. The sash was down. Across a missing pane a sheet of rusted tin was nailed.
Temple was sitting on the bed, her legs tucked under her, erect, her hands lying in her lap, her hat tilted on the back of her head. She looked quite small, her very attitude an outrage to muscle and tissue of more than seventeen and more compatible with eight or ten, her elbows close to her sides, her face turned toward the door against which a chair was wedged. There was nothing in the
“No,” Gowan said, “I dont.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Van said.
“Van,” Goodwin said.
“Do you think you’re big enough to not like it?” Van said.
“I am,” Goodwin said.
When Van went back to the kitchen Tommy followed him. He stopped at the door and heard Van in the kitchen.
“Come for a walk, little bit,” Van said.
“Get out of here, Van,” the woman said.
“Come for a little walk,” Van said. “I’m a good guy. Ruby’ll tell you.”
“Get out of here, now,” the woman said. “Do you want me to call Lee?” Van stood against the light, in a khaki shirt and breeches, a cigarette behind his ear against the smooth sweep of his blond hair. Beyond him Temple stood behind the chair in which the woman sat at the table, her mouth open a little, her eyes quite black.
When Tommy went back to the porch with the jug he said to Goodwin: “Why dont them fellers quit pesterin that gal?”
“Who’s pestering her?”
“Van is. She’s skeered. Whyn’t they leave her be?”
“It’s none of your business. You keep out of it. You hear?”
“Them fellers ought to quit pesterin her,” Tommy said. He squatted against the wall. They were drinking, passing the jug back and forth, talking. With the top of his mind he listened to them, to Van’s gross and stupid tales of city life, with rapt interest, guffawing now and then, drinking in his turn. Van and Gowan were doing the talking, and Tommy listened to them. “Them two’s fixin to have hit out with one another,” he whispered to Goodwin in a chair beside him. “Hyear em?” They were talking quite loud; Goodwin moved swiftly and lightly from his chair, his feet striking the floor with light thuds; Tommy saw Van standing and Gowan holding himself erect by the back of his chair.
“I never meant—” Van said.
“Dont say it, then,” Goodwin said.
Gowan said something. That durn feller, Tommy thought. Cant even talk no more.
“Shut up, you,” Goodwin said.
“Think talk bout my—” Gowan said. He moved, swayed against the chair. It fell over. Gowan blundered into the wall.
“By God, I’ll—” Van said.
“—ginia gentleman; I dont give a—” Gowan said. Goodwin flung him aside with a backhanded blow of his arm, and grasped Van. Gowan fell against the wall.
“When I say sit down, I mean it,” Goodwin said.
After that they were quiet for a while. Goodwin returned to his chair. They began to talk again, passing the jug, and Tommy listened. But soon he began to think about Temple again. He would feel his feet scouring on the floor and his whole body writhing in an acute discomfort. “They ought to let that gal alone,” he whispered to Goodwin. “They ought to quit pesterin her.”
“It’s none of your business,” Goodwin said. “Let every damned one of them.……”
“They ought to quit pesterin her.”
Popeye came out the door. He lit a cigarette. Tommy watched his face flare out between his hands, his cheeks sucking; he followed with his eyes the small comet of the match into the weeds. Him too, he said. Two of em; his body writhing slowly. Pore little crittur. I be dawg ef I aint a mind to go down to the barn and stay there, I be dawg ef I aint. He rose, his feet making no sound on the porch. He stepped down into the path and went around the house.There was a light in the window there. Dont nobody never use in there, he said, stopping, then he said, That’s where she’ll be stayin, and he went to the window and looked in. The sash was down. Across a missing pane a sheet of rusted tin was nailed.
Temple was sitting on the bed, her legs tucked under her, erect, her hands lying in her lap, her hat tilted on the back of her head. She looked quite small, her very attitude an outrage to muscle and tissue of more than seventeen and more compatible with eight or ten, her elbows close to her sides, her face turned toward the door against which a chair was wedged. There was nothing in the
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