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get it'
It was as though a great worry and tightness left the family。 In
the dark they began to laugh and talk。 Their Dad did a trick for
George with a matchstick and a handkerchief。 Then he gave
the kid fifty cents to go down to the corner store for Coca…
Colas to be drunk after supper。 The smell of cabbage was
stronger in the hall and pork chops were frying。 Portia called。
The boarders already waited at the table。 Mick had supper in
the dining…room。 The cabbage leaves were limp and yellow on
her plate and she couldn't eat。 When she reached for the bread
she knocked a pitcher of iced tea over the table。
Then later she waited on the front porch by herself for Mister
Singer to come home。 In a desperate way she wanted to see
him。 The excitement of the hour before had died down and she
was sick to the stomach。 She was going to work in a ten…cent
store and she did not want to work there。 It was like she had
been trapped into something。 The job wouldn't be just for the
summer—but for a long time； as long as she could see ahead。
Once they were used to the money coming in it would be
impossible to do without again。 That was the way things were。
She stood in the dark and held tight to the banisters。 A long
time passed and Mister Singer still did not come。 At eleven
o'clock she
went out to see if she could find him。 But suddenly she got
frightened in the dark and ran back home。
Then in the morning she bathed and dressed very careful。
Hazel and Etta loaned her the clothes to wear and primped her
to look nice。 She wore Hazel's green silk dress and a green hat
and high…heeled pumps with silk stockings。 They fixed her
face with rouge and lipstick and plucked her eyebrows。 She
looked at least sixteen years old when they were finished。
It was too late to back down now。 She was really grown and
ready to earn her keep。 Yet if she would go to her Dad and tell
him how she felt he would tell her to wait a year。 And Hazel
and Etta and Bill and their Mama； even now； would say that
she didn't have to go。 But she couldn't do it。 She couldn't lose
face like that。 She went up to see Mister Singer。 The words
came all in a rush：
'Listen—I believe I got this job。 What do you think？ Do you
think it's a good idea？ Do you think it's O。K。 to drop out of
school and work now？ You think it's good？'
At first he did not understand。 His gray eyes half…closed and
he stood with his hands deep down in his pockets。 There was
the old feeling that they waited to tell each other things that
had never been told before。 The thing she had to say now was
not much。 But what he had to tell her would be right—and if
he said the job sounded O。K。 then she would feel better about
it。 She repeated the words slowly and waited。
'You think it's good？'
Mister Singer considered。 Then he nodded yes。
She got the job。 The manager took her and Hazel back to a
little office and talked with them。 Afterward she couldn't
remember how the manager looked or anything that had been
said。 But she was hired； and on the way out of the place she
bought ten cents' worth of Chocolate and a little modeling clay
set for George。 On June the fifth she was to start work。 She
stood for a long while before the window of Mister Singer's
jewelry store。 Then she hung around on the corner。TT4
CARSON Me CULLERS
15
_l HE time had come for Singer to go to Antonapoulos again。
The journey was a long one。 For； although the distance
between them was something less than two hundred miles； the
train meandered to points far out of the way and stopped for
long hours at certain stations during the night。 Singer would
leave the town in the afternoon and travel all through the night
and until the early morning of the next day。 As usual； he was
ready far in advance。 He planned to have a full week with his
friend this visit。 His clothes had been sent to the cleaner's； his
hat blocked； and his bags were in readiness。 The gifts he
would carry were wrapped in colored tissue paper—and in
addition there was a deluxe basket of fruits done up in
cellophane and a crate of late…shipped strawberries。 On the
morning before his departure Singer cleaned his room。 In his
ice box he found a bit of left…over goose liver and took it out
to the alley for the neighborhood cat。 On his door he tacked
the same sign he had posted there before； stating that he would
be absent for several days on business。 During all these
preparations he moved about leisurely with two vivid spots of
color on his cheekbones。 His face was very solemn。
Then at last the hour for departure was at hand。 He stood on
the platform； burdened with his suitcases and gifts； and
watched the train roll in on the station tracks。 He found
himself a seat in the day coach and hoisted his luggage on the
rack above his head。 The car was crowded； for the most part
with mothers and children。 The green plush seats had a grimy
smell。 The windows of the car were dirty and rice thrown at
some recent bridal pair lay scattered on the floor。 Singer
smiled cordially to his fellow…travelers and leaned back in his
seat。 He closed his eyes。 The lashes made a dark； curved
fringe above the hollows of his cheeks。 His right hand moved
nervously inside his pocket
For a while his thoughts lingered in the town he was leaving
behind him。 He saw Mick and Doctor Copeland and Jake
Blount and Biff Brannon。 The faces crowded in on him out of
the darkness so that he felt smothered。 He thought of the
quarrel between Blount and the Negro。 The
275
nature of this quarrel was hopelessly confused in his mind —but each
of them had on several occasions broken out into a bitter tirade
against the other； the absent one。 He had agreed with each of them in
turn； though what it was they wanted him to sanction he did not
know。 And Mick —her face was urgent and she said a good deal that
he did not understand in the least。 And then Biff Brannon at the New
York Caf6。 Brannon with his dark； iron…like jaw and his watchful
eyes。 And strangers who followed him about the streets and
buttonholed him for unexplainable reasons。 The Turk at the linen
shop who flung his hands up in his face and babbled with his tongue
to make words the shape of which Singer had never imagined before。
A certain mill foreman and an old black woman。 A businessman on
the main street and an urchin who solicited soldiers for a whorehouse
near the river。 Singer wriggled his shoulders uneasily。 The train
rocked with a smooth； easy motion。 His head nodded to rest on his
shoulder and for a short while he slept。
When he opened his eyes again the town was far behind him。 The
town was forgotten。 Outside the dirty window there was the brilliant
midsummer countryside。 The sun slanted in strong； bronze…colored
rays over the green fields of the new cotton。 There were acres of
tobacco； the plants heavy and green like some monstrous jungle
weed。 The orchards of peaches with the lush fruit weighting down the
dwarfed trees。 There were miles of pastures and tens of miles of
wasted； washed…out land abandoned to the hardier weed