Tom turned on Pa. “What the hell was that?” he asked.
Pa shrugged his shoulders. He was looking across the camp. In front of a tent stood an old Buick, and the head was off. A young man was grinding the valves, and as he twisted back and forth, back and forth, on the tool, he looked up at the Joad truck. They could see that he was laughing to himself. When the bearded man was gone, the young man left his work and sauntered over.
“H’are ya?” he said, and his blue eyes were shiny with amusement. “I seen you just met the Mayor.”
“What the hell’s the matter with ’im?” Tom demanded.
The young man chuckled. “He’s jus’ nuts like you an’ me. Maybe he’s a little nutser’n me, I don’ know.”
Pa said, “I jus’ ast him if we could camp here.”
The young man wiped his greasy hands on his trousers. “Sure. Why not? You folks jus’ come acrost?”
“Yeah,” said Tom. “Jus’ got in this mornin’.”
“Never been in Hooverville before?”
“Where’s Hooverville?”