The ragged man said slowly, “Me—I’m comin’ back. I been there.”
The faces turned quickly toward him. The men were rigid. The hiss of the lantern dropped to a sigh and the proprietor lowered the front chair legs to the porch, stood up, and pumped the lantern until the hiss was sharp and high again. He went back to his chair, but he did not tilt back again. The ragged man turned toward the faces. “I’m goin’ back to starve. I ruther starve all over at oncet.”
Pa said, “What the hell you talkin’ about? I got a han’bill says they got good wages, an’ little while ago I seen a thing in the paper says they need folks to pick fruit.”
The ragged man turned to Pa. “You got any place to go, back home?”
“No,” said Pa. “We’re out. They put a tractor past the house.”
“You wouldn’ go back then?”
“’Course not.”
“Then I ain’t gonna fret you,” said the ragged man.
“’Course you ain’t gonna fret me. I got a han’bill says they need men. Don’t make no sense if they don’t need men. Costs money for them bills. They wouldn’ put ’em out if they didn’ need men.”
“I don’ wanna fret you.”