“You goin’ to set yourself some mighty hard work, Mas’ Wayne, if you get foolin’ ’roun’ the factories. Better leave that kind of work for me, sir. That’s nigger work, that is.”
“It’s white men’s work up here in the North, June. I’m strong enough and I’m willing, and I’m just going to find something tomorrow. Question now is, June, where are we going to get our supper and where are we going to sleep? Fifty cents will buy supper but it won’t buy beds, too.”
“I been thinkin’ about that sleepin’ business,” answered June. “I reckon we can’ do no better than stay right where we is.”
“Here?” asked Wayne. “Someone would come along and arrest us or something. Besides, a wheelbarrow——”
“No, sir, I don’ mean out here. I mean in yonder.” June nodded toward the old shed beside them. “I was projeckin’ roun’ before you-all come back an’ there ain’ nothin’ wrong with this yere little house, Mas’ Wayne.”
“Oh,” said Wayne. “Is it empty?”
“Yes, sir, it surely is empty. There ain’ nothin’ in there but empty. It ’pears like it used to be a store, ’cause there’s shelves up the walls. An’ there’s a floor, too.”
“Do we sleep on the floor or the shelves?” asked Wayne.
“Shelves is too narrow,” chuckled June. “If we jus’ had a blanket or two, now, I reckon we’d be mighty comfortable.”
“Might as well wish for a bed with a hair mattress and pillows and sheets,” answered Wayne. “But I’d rather sleep under a roof tonight than outdoors, so we’ll just be glad of the shed, June. Now let’s go and find us some supper. Come on, Sam, you rascal!”