The men were uneasy. One said, “Well—gettin’ late. Got to get to sleep.”
The proprietor said, “Prob’ly shif’less. They’s so goddamn many shif’less fellas on the road now.” And then he was quiet. And he tipped his chair back against the wall again and fingered his throat.
Tom said, “Guess I’ll go see Ma for a minute, an’ then we’ll shove along a piece.” The Joad men moved away.
Pa said, “S’pose he’s tellin’ the truth—that fella?”
The preacher answered, “He’s tellin’ the truth, awright. The truth for him. He wasn’t makin’ nothin’ up.”
“How about us?” Tom demanded. “Is that the truth for us?”
“I don’ know,” said Casy.
“I don’ know,” said Pa.
They walked to the tent, tarpaulin spread over a rope. And it was dark inside, and quiet. When they came near, a grayish mass stirred near the door and arose to person height. Ma came out to meet them.
“All sleepin’,” she said. “Granma finally dozed off.” Then she saw it was Tom. “How’d you get here?” she demanded anxiously. “You ain’t had no trouble?”