Pa lounged over to him. “Gettin’ thirsty, John?”
“No, I ain’t.”
“Jus’ wait till cotton’s done,” said Pa. “Then you can go on a hell of a drunk.”
“’Tain’t sweatin’ me none,” Uncle John said. “I’m workin’ hard an’ sleepin’ good. No dreams nor nothin’.”
“Jus’ seen you sort of droolin’ out at them bottles.”
“I didn’ hardly see ’em. Funny thing. I wanta buy stuff. Stuff I don’t need. Like to git one a them safety razors. Thought I’d like to have some a them gloves over there. Awful cheap.”
“Can’t pick no cotton with gloves,” said Pa.
“I know that. An’ I don’t need no safety razor, neither. Stuff settin’ out there, you jus’ feel like buyin’ it whether you need it or not.”
Ma called, “Come on. We got ever’thing.” She carried a bag. Uncle John and Pa each took a package. Outside Ruthie and Winfield were waiting, their eyes strained, their cheeks puffed and full of Cracker Jack.
“Won’t eat no supper, I bet,” Ma said.