The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck [193]
Pa grunted, and they drove back toward the camp in silence.
When the committee left, Ma sat down on a box in front of the Joad tent, and she looked helplessly at Rose of Sharon. “Well—’’ she said, “well—I ain’t been so perked up in years. Wasn’t them ladies nice?’’
“I get to work in the nursery,’’ Rose of Sharon said. “They tol’ me. I can find out all how to do for babies, an’ then I’ll know.’’
Ma nodded in wonder. “Wouldn’ it be nice if the menfolks all got work?’’ she asked. “Them a-workin’, an’ a little money comin’ in?’’ Her eyes wandered into space. “Them a-workin’, an’ us a-workin’ here, an’ all them nice people. Fust thing we get a little ahead I’d get me a little stove—nice one. They don’ cost much. An’ then we’d get a tent, big enough, an’ maybe secon’-han’ springs for the beds. An’ we’d use this here tent jus’ to eat under. An’ Sat’dy night we’ll go to the dancin’. They says you can invite folks if you want. I wisht we had some frien’s to invite. Maybe the men’ll know somebody to invite.’’
Rose of Sharon peered down the road. “That lady that says I’ll lose the baby—’’ she began.
“Now you stop that,’’ Ma warned her.
Rose of Sharon said softly, “I seen her. She’s a-comin’ here, I think. Yeah! Here she comes. Ma, don’t let her——’’
Ma turned and looked at the approaching figure.
“Howdy,’’ the woman said. “I’m Mis’ Sandry—Lisbeth Sandry. I seen your girl this mornin’.’’
“Howdy do,’’ said Ma.
“Are you happy in the Lord?’’
“Pretty happy,’’ said Ma.
“Are you saved?’’
“I been saved.’’ Ma’s face was closed and waiting.
“Well, I’m glad,’’ Lisbeth said. “The sinners is awful strong aroun’ here. You come to a awful place. They’s wicketness all around about. Wicket people, wicket goin’s-on that a lamb’-blood Christian jes’ can’t hardly stan’. They’s sinners all around us.’’
Ma colored a little, and shut her mouth tightly. “Seems to me they’s nice people here,’’ she said shortly.
Mrs. Sandry’s eyes stared. “Nice!’’ she cried. “You think they’re nice when they’s dancin’ an’ huggin’? I tell ya, ya eternal soul ain’t got a chancet in this here camp. Went out to a meetin’ in Weedpatch las’ night. Know what the preacher says? He says, ‘They’s wicketness in that camp.’ He says, ‘The poor is tryin’ to be rich.’ He says, ‘They’s dancin’ an’ huggin’ when they should be wailin’ an’ moanin’ in sin.’ That’s what he says. ‘Ever’body that ain’t here is a black sinner,’ he says. I tell you it made a person feel purty good to hear ’im. An’ we knowed we was safe. We ain’t danced.’’
Ma’s face was red. She stood up slowly and faced Mrs. Sandry. “Git!’’ she said. “Git out now, ’fore I git to be a sinner a-tellin’ you where to go. Git to your wailin’ an’ moanin’.’’
Mrs. Sandry’s mouth dropped open. She stepped back. And then she became fierce. “I thought you was Christians.’’
“So we are,’’ Ma said.
“No, you ain’t. You’re hell-burnin’ sinners, all of you! An’ I’ll mention it in meetin’, too. I can see your black soul a-burnin’. I can see that innocent child in that there girl’s belly a-burnin’.’’
A low wailing cry escaped from Rose of Sharon’s lips. Ma stooped down and picked up a stick of wood.
“Git!’’ she said coldly. “Don’ you never come back. I seen your kind before. You’d take the little pleasure, wouldn’ you?’’ Ma advanced on Mrs. Sandry.
For a moment the woman backed away and then suddenly she threw back her head and howled. Her eyes rolled up, her shoulders and arms flopped loosely at her side, and a string of thick ropy saliva ran from the corner of her mouth. She howled again and again, long deep animal howls. Men and women ran up from the other tents, and they stood near—frightened and quiet. Slowly the woman sank to her knees and the howls sank to a shuddering, bubbling moan. She fell sideways and her arms and legs twitched. The white eyeballs showed under the open eyelids.
A man said softly, “The sperit. She got the sperit.’’ Ma stood looking down at the twitching form.
The little manager strolled up casually. “Trouble?