The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck [182]
In line, the three men worked, and the ditch inched along, and the sun shone hotly down on them in the growing morning.
When Tom left her, Ruthie gazed in at the door of the sanitary unit for a while. Her courage was not strong without Winfield to boast for. She put a bare foot in on the concrete floor, and then withdrew it. Down the line a woman came out of a tent and started a fire in a tin camp stove. Ruthie took a few steps in that direction, but she could not leave. She crept to the entrance of the Joad tent and looked in. On one side, lying on the ground, lay Uncle John, his mouth open and his snores bubbling spittily in his throat. Ma and Pa were covered with a comfort, their heads in, away from the light. Al was on the far side from Uncle John, and his arm was flung over his eyes. Near the front of the tent Rose of Sharon and Winfield lay, and there was the space where Ruthie had been, beside Winfield. She squatted down and peered in. Her eyes remained on Winfield’s tow head; and as she looked, the little boy opened his eyes and stared out at her, and his eyes were solemn. Ruthie put her finger to her lips and beckoned with her other hand. Winfield rolled his eyes over to Rose of Sharon. Her pink flushed face was near to him, and her mouth was open a little. Winfield carefully loosened the blanket and slipped out. He crept out of the tent cautiously and joined Ruthie. “How long you been up?’’ he whispered.
She led him away with elaborate caution, and when they were safe, she said, “I never been to bed. I was up all night.’’
“You was not,’’ Winfield said. “You’re a dirty liar.’’
“Awright,’’ she said. “If I’m a liar I ain’t gonna tell you nothin’ that happened. I ain’t gonna tell how the fella got killed with a stab knife an’ how they was a bear come in an’ took off a little chile.’’
“They wasn’t no bear,’’ Winfield said uneasily. He brushed up his hair with his fingers and he pulled down his overalls at the crotch.
“All right—they wasn’t no bear,’’ she said sarcastically. “An’ they ain’t no white things made outa dish-stuff, like in the catalogues.’’
Winfield regarded her gravely. He pointed to the sanitary unit. “In there?’’ he asked.
“I’m a dirty liar,’’ Ruthie said. “It ain’t gonna do me no good to tell stuff to you.’’
“Le’s go look,’’ Winfield said.
“I already been,’’ Ruthie said. “I already set on ’em. I even pee’d in one.’’
“You never neither,’’ said Winfield.
They went to the unit building, and that time Ruthie was not afraid. Boldly she led the way into the building. The toilets lined one side of the large room, and each toilet had its compartment with a door in front of it. The porcelain was gleaming white. Hand basins lined another wall, while on the third wall were four shower compartments.
“There,’’ said Ruthie. “Them’s the toilets. I seen ’em in the catalogue. ’’ The children drew near to one of the toilets. Ruthie, in a burst of bravado, boosted her skirt and sat down. “I tol’ you I been here,’’ she said. And to prove it, there was a tinkle of water in the bowl.
Winfield was embarrassed. His hand twisted the flushing lever. There was a roar of water. Ruthie leaped into the air and jumped away. She and Winfield stood in the middle of the room and looked at the toilet. The hiss of water continued in it.
“You done it,’’ Ruthie said. “You went an’ broke it. I seen you.’’
“I never. Honest I never.’’
“I seen you,’’ Ruthie said. “You jus’ ain’t to be trusted with no nice stuff.’’
Winfield sunk his chin. He looked up at Ruthie and his eyes filled with tears. His chin quivered. And Ruthie was instantly contrite.
“Never you mind,’’ she said. “I won’t tell on you. We’ll pretend like she was already broke. We’ll pretend we ain’t even been in here.’’ She led him out of the building.
The sun lipped over the mountain by now, shone on the corrugated-iron roofs of the five sanitary units, shone on the gray tents and on the swept ground of the streets between the tents. And the camp was waking up. The fires were burning in camp stoves, in the stoves made of kerosene cans and of sheets of metal. The smell of smoke was in the air. Tent flaps were thrown back and people moved about in the streets. In front of the Joad tent Ma stood looking up and down the street. She saw the children and came over to them.