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wanted to talk
to somebody about it； because maybe if he told all the facts
out loud he could put his finger on the thing that puzzled him。
The poor son…of…a…bitch talking and talking and not ever
getting anybody to understand what he meant。 Not knowing
himself； most likely。 And the way he gravitated around the
deaf…mute and picked him out and tried to make him a free
present of everything in him。
Why？
Because in some men it is in them to give up everything
personal at some time； before it ferments and poisons—throw
it to some human being or some human idea。 They have to。 In
some men it is in them—The text is 'All men seek for Thee。'
Maybe that was why—maybe—He was a Chinaman； the
fellow had said。 And a nigger and a wop and a Jew。 And if he
believed it hard enough maybe it was so。 Every person and
every thing he said he was
Biff stretched both of his arms outward and crossed his naked
feet。 His face was older in the morning light； with the closed；
shrunken eyelids and the heavy； iron…like beard on his cheeks
and jaw。 Gradually his mouth softened and relaxed。 The hard；
yellow rays of the sun came in through the window so that the
room was hot and bright。 Biff turned wearily and covered his
eyes with his hands。 And he was nobody but—Bartholomew
—old Biff with two fists and a quick tongue—Mister Brannon
—by himself。
J。 HE sun woke Mick early； although she had stayed out mighty
late the night before。 It was too hot even to drink coffee for
breakfast； so she had ice water with syrup in it and cold
biscuits。 She messed around the kitchen for a while and then
went out on the front porch to read the funnies。 She had
thought maybe Mister Singer would be reading the paper on
the porch like he did most Sunday mornings。 But Mister
Singer was not there； and later on her Dad said he came in
very late the night before and had company in his room。 She
waited for Mister Singer a long time。 All the other boarders
came down except him。 Fi…28
nally she went back in the kitchen and took Ralph out of his
high chair and put a clean dress on him and wiped off his face。
Then when Bubber got home from Sunday School she was
ready to take the kids out。 She let Bubber ride in the wagon
with Ralph because he was barefooted and the hot sidewalk
burned his feet。 She pulled the wagon for about eight blocks
until they came to the big； new house that was being built。 The
ladder was still propped against the edge of the roof； and she
screwed up nerve and began to climb。
'You mind Ralph；' she called back to Bubber。 'Mind the gnats
don't sit on his eyelids。'
Five minutes later Mick stood up and held herself very
straight。 She spread out her arms like wings。 This was the
place where everybody wanted to stand。 The very top。 But not
many kids could do it。 Most of them were scared； for if you
lost your grip and rolled off the edge it would kill you。 All
around were the roofs of other houses and the green tops of
trees。 On the other side of town were the church steeples and
the smokestacks from the mills。 The sky was bright blue and
hot as fire。 The sun made everything on the ground either
dizzy white or black。
She wanted to sing。 All the songs she knew pushed up toward
her throat； but there was no sound。 One big boy who had got
to the highest part of the roof last week let out a yell and then
started hollering out a speech he had learned at High School
—'Friends； Romans； Countrymen； Lend me your ears！' There
was something about getting to the very top that gave you a
wild feeling and made you want to yell or sing or raise up
your arms and fly。
She felt the soles of her tennis shoes slipping； and eased
herself down so that she straddled the peak of the roof。 The
house was almost finished。 It would be one of the largest
buildings in the neighborhood—two stories； with very high
ceilings and the steepest roof of any house she had ever seen。
But soon the work would all be finished。 The carpenters
would leave and the kids would have to find another place to
play。
She was by herself。 No one was around and it was quiet and
she could think for a while。 She took from the pocket of her
shorts the package of cigarettes she had bought the night
before。 She breathed in the smoke slowly。 The cigarette gave her a drunk feeling so that her head seemed heavy
and loose on her shoulders； but she had to finish it。
M。K。—That was what she would have written on everything
when she was seventeen years old and very famous。 She
would ride back home in a red…and…white Packard automobile
with her initials on the doors。 She would have M。K。 written in
red on her handkerchiefs and underclothes。 Maybe she would
be a great inventor。 She would invent little tiny radios the size
of a green pea that people could carry around and stick in their
ears。 Also flying machines people could fasten on their backs
like knapsacks and go zipping all over the world。 After that
she would be the first one to make a large tunnel through the
world to China； and people could go down in big balloons。
Those were the first tilings she would invent They were
already planned。
When Mick had finished half of the cigarette she smashed it
dead and flipped the butt down the slant of the roof。 Then she
leaned forward so that her head rested on her arms and began
to hum to herself。
It was a funny thing—but nearly all the time there was some
kind of piano piece or other music going on in the back of her
mind。 No matter what she was doing or thinking it was nearly
always there。 Miss Brown； who boarded with them； had a
radio in her room； and all last winter she would sit on the
steps every Sunday afternoon and listen in on the programs。
Those were probably classical pieces； but they were the ones
she remembered best。 There was one special fellow's music
that made her heart shrink up every time she heard it。
Sometimes this feEow's music was like little colored pieces of
crystal candy； and other times it was the softest； saddest thing
she had ever imagined about。
There was the sudden sound of crying。 Mick sat up straight
and listened The wind ruffled the fringe of hair on her
forehead and the bright sun made her face white and damp。
The whimpering continued； and Mick moved slowly along the
sharp…pointed roof on her hands and knees。 When she reached
the end she leaned forward and lay on her stomach so that her
head jutted over the edge and she could see the ground below。
The kids were where she had left them。 Bubber was30
squatting over something on the ground and beside him was a
little black； dwarf shadow。 Ralph was still tied in the wagon。
He was just old enough to sit up； and he held on to the sides of
the wagon； with his cap crooked on his head； crying。
'Bubber！' Mick called down。 'Find out what that Ralph wants
and give it to him。'
Bubber stood up and looked hard into the baby's face。 'He
don't want nothing。'
'Well； give him a good shake； then。'
Mick climbed back to the place where she had been sitting
before。 She wanted to think for a long time about two or