Jessie said, “We got our troubles with toilet paper. Rule says you can’t take none away from here.” She clicked her tongue sharply. “Whole camp chips in for toilet paper.” For a moment she was silent, and then she confessed, “Number Four is usin’ more than any other. Somebody’s a-stealin’ it. Come up in general ladies’ meetin’. ’Ladies’ side, Unit Number Four is usin’ too much.’ Come right up in meetin’!”
Ma was following the conversation breathlessly. “Stealin’ it—what for?”
“Well,” said Jessie, “we had trouble before. Las’ time they was three little girls cuttin’ paper dolls out of it. Well, we caught them. But this time we don’t know. Hardly put a roll out ’fore it’s gone. Come right up in meetin’. One lady says we oughta have a little bell that rings ever’ time the roll turns oncet. Then we could count how many ever’body takes.” She shook her head. “I jes’ don’ know,” she said. “I been worried all week. Somebody’s a-stealin’ toilet paper from Unit Four.”
From the doorway came a whining voice, “Mis’ Bullitt.” The committee turned. “Mis’ Bullitt, I hearn what you says.” A flushed, perspiring woman stood in the doorway. “I couldn’ git up in meetin’, Mis’ Bullitt. I jes’ couldn’. They’d a-laughed or somepin.”
“What you talkin’ about?” Jessie advanced.
“Well, we-all—maybe—it’s us. But we ain’t a-stealin’, Mis’ Bullitt.”
Jessie advanced on her, and the perspiration beaded out on the flustery confessor. “We can’t he’p it, Mis’ Bullitt.”
“Now you tell what you’re tellin’,” Jessie said. “This here unit’s suffered a shame ’bout that toilet paper.”
“All week, Mis’ Bullitt. We couldn’ he’p it. You know I got five girls.”
“What they been a-doin’ with it?” Jessie demanded ominously.