“Sure. Everybody is, but not the way she means. She isn’t well, Mrs. Joad.”
Ma looked at him gratefully, and she called, “You hear that, Rosasharn? She ain’t well. She’s crazy.” But the girl did not raise her head. Ma said, “I’m warnin’ you, mister. If she comes back, I ain’t to be trusted. I’ll hit her.”
He smiled wryly. “I know how you feel,” he said. “But just try not to. That’s all I ask—just try not to.” He walked slowly away toward the tent where Mrs. Sandry had been carried.
Ma went into the tent and sat down beside Rose of Sharon. “Look up,” she said. The girl lay still. Ma gently lifted the blanket from her daughter’s face. “That woman’s kinda crazy,” she said. “Don’t you believe none of them things.”
Rose of Sharon whispered in terror, “When she said about burnin’, Ifelt burnin’.”
“That ain’t true,” said Ma.
“I’m tar’d out,” the girl whispered. “I’m tar’d a things happenin’. I wanta sleep. I wanta sleep.”
“Well, you sleep, then. This here’s a nice place. You can sleep.”
“But she might come back.”
“She won’t,” said Ma, “I’m a-gonna set right outside, an’ I won’t let her come back. Res’ up now, ’cause you got to get to work in the nu’sery purty soon.”