Ma said, “This here’s my girl, Rosasharn.”
“How do,” they said.
“Better come ’long too.”
The huge Jessie spoke, and her manner was full of dignity and kindness, and her speech was rehearsed.
“You shouldn’ think we’re a-buttin’ into your business, Mis’ Joad. This here camp got a lot of stuff ever’body uses. An’ we got rules we made ourself. Now we’re a-goin’ to the unit. That there, ever’body uses, an’ ever’body got to take care of it.” They strolled to the unroofed section where the wash trays were, twenty of them. Eight were in use, the women bending over, scrubbing the clothes, and the piles of wrung-out clothes were heaped on the clean concrete floor. “Now you can use these here any time you want,” Jessie said. “The on’y thing is, you got to leave ’em clean.”
The women who were washing looked up with interest. Jessie said loudly, “This here’s Mis’ Joad an’ Rosasharn, come to live.” They greeted Ma in a chorus and Ma made a dumpy little bow at them and said, “Proud to meet ya.”
Jessie led the committee into the toilet and shower room.
“I been here awready,” Ma said. “I even took a bath.”
“That’s what they’re for,” Jessie said. “An’ they’s the same rule. You got to leave ’em clean. Ever’ week they’s a new committee to swab out oncet a day. Maybe you git on that committee. You got to bring your own soap.”
“We got to get some soap,” Ma said. “We’re all out.”