Tom paused as he passed the guard. “Got a place where a fella can get a bath, mister?” The guard studied him in the half-light. At last he said, “See that water tank?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, there’s a hose over there.”
“Any warm water?”
“Say, who in hell you think you are, J. P. Morgan?”
“No,” said Tom. “No, I sure don’t. Good night, mister.”
The guard grunted contemptuously. “Hot water, for Christ’s sake. Be wantin’ tubs next.” He stared glumly after the four Joads.
A second guard came around the end house. “’S’matter, Mack?”
“Why, them goddamn Okies. ’Is they warm water?’ he says.”
The second guard rested his gun butt on the ground. “It’s them gov’ment camps,” he said. “I bet that fella been in a gov’ment camp. We ain’t gonna have no peace till we wipe them camps out. They’ll be wantin’ clean sheets, first thing we know.”