“Better come along in, then.”
“They was tar’d when they started,” Pa said. “Wild as rabbits they’re a-gettin’. Ain’t gonna be no good at all ’less we can pin ’em down.”
“Soon’s we get set down, they’ll go to school,” said Ma. She trudged away, and Ruthie and Winfield timidly followed her. “We got to work ever’ day?” Winfield asked. Ma stopped and waited. She took his hand and walked along holding it. “It ain’t hard work,” she said. “Be good for you. An’ you’re helpin’ us. If we all work, purty soon we’ll live in a nice house. We all got to help.”
“But I got so tar’d.”
“I know. I got tar’d too. Ever’body gets wore out. Got to think about other stuff. Think about when you’ll go to school.”
“I don’t wanta go to no school. Ruthie don’t, neither. Them kids that goes to school, we seen ’em, Ma. Snots! Calls us Okies. We seen ’em. I ain’t a-goin’.”
Ma looked pityingly down on his straw hair. “Don’ give us no trouble right now,” she begged. “Soon’s we get on our feet, you can be bad. But not now. We got too much, now.”
“I et six of them peaches,” Ruthie said. “Well, you’ll have the skitters. An’ it ain’t close to no toilet where we are.”
The company’s store was a large shed of corrugated iron. It had no display window. Ma opened the screen door and went in. A tiny man stood behind the counter. He was completely bald, and his head was blue-white. Large, brown eye-brows covered his eyes in such a high arch that his face seemed surprised and a little frightened. His nose was long and thin, and curved like a bird’s beak, and his nostrils were blocked with light brown hair. Over the sleeves of his blue shirt he wore black sateen sleeve protectors. He was leaning on his elbows on the counter when Ma entered.
“Afternoon,” she said. He inspected her with interest. The arch over his eyes became higher. “Howdy.”