“’Bout Tom.” Ma stared. “Tol’?” Then she knelt in front of him. “Winfiel’, who’d she tell?” Embarrassment seized Winfield. He backed away. “Well, she on’y tol’ a little bit.”
“Winfiel’! Now you tell what she said.”
“She—she didn’ eat all her Cracker Jack. She kep’ some, an’ she et jus’ one piece at a time, slow, like she always done, an’ she says, ’Bet you wisht you had some lef’.”
“Winfiel’!” Ma demanded. “You tell now.” She looked back nervously at the curtain. “Rosasharn, you go over talk to Mis’ Wainwright so she don’ listen.”
“How ’bout these here potatoes?”
“I’ll watch ’em. Now you go. I don’ want her listenin’ at that curtain.” The girl shuffled heavily down the car and went around the side of the hung tarpaulin.
Ma said, “Now, Winfiel’, you tell.”
“Like I said, she et jus’ one little piece at a time, an’ she bust some in two so it’d las’ longer.”
“Go on, hurry up.”
“Well, some kids come aroun’, an’ ’course they tried to get some, but Ruthie, she jus’ nibbled an’ nibbled, an’ wouldn’ give ’em none. So they got mad. An’ one kid grabbed her Cracker Jack box.”