She led him away with elaborate caution, and when they were safe, she said, “I never been to bed. I was up all night.”
“You was not,” Winfield said. “You’re a dirty liar.”
“Awright,” she said. “If I’m a liar I ain’t gonna tell you nothin’ that happened. I ain’t gonna tell how the fella got killed with a stab knife an’ how they was a bear come in an’ took off a little chile.”
“They wasn’t no bear,” Winfield said uneasily. He brushed up his hair with his fingers and he pulled down his overalls at the crotch.
“All right—they wasn’t no bear,” she said sarcastically. “An’ they ain’t no white things made outa dish-stuff, like in the catalogues.”
Winfield regarded her gravely. He pointed to the sanitary unit. “In there?” he asked.
“I’m a dirty liar,” Ruthie said. “It ain’t gonna do me no good to tell stuff to you.”
“Le’s go look,” Winfield said.
“I already been,” Ruthie said. “I already set on ’em. I even pee’d in one.”
“You never neither,” said Winfield.