“Well, I won’t let ’im,” Winfield said fiercely.
“Sh! Get some sleep.”
Ruthie said, “You oughta seen the blood run down—all over his clothes.”
Ma reached a hand from under the blanket and snapped Ruthie on the cheek with her finger. The little girl went rigid for a moment, and then dissolved into sniffling, quiet crying.
IN THE SANITARY UNIT Pa and Uncle John sat in adjoining compartments. “Might’s well get in a good las’ one,” said Pa. “It’s sure nice. ’Member how the little fellas was so scairt when they flushed ’em the first time?”
“I wasn’t so easy myself,” said Uncle John. He pulled his overalls neatly up around his knees. “I’m gettin’ bad,” he said. “I feel sin.”
“You can’t sin none,” said Pa. “You ain’t got no money. Jus’ sit tight. Cos’ you at leas’ two bucks to sin, an’ we ain’t got two bucks amongst us.”
“Yeah! But I’m a-thinkin’ sin.”
“Awright. You can think sin for nothin’.”
“It’s jus’ as bad,” said Uncle John. “It’s a whole hell of a lot cheaper,” said Pa. “Don’t you go makin’ light of sin.”