“Why, sure. I walked a piece with the fella. He was comin’ to get pickers.”
“Cotton’s nearly gone. Purty thin, these here seconds. Gonna be hard to make a wage on the seconds. Got her pretty clean the fust time.”
“Your folks could maybe ride with us,” Ma said. “Split the gas.”
“Well—that’s frien’ly of you, ma’am.”
“Saves us both,” said Ma. Pa said, “Mr. Wainwright—he’s got a worry he come to us about. We was a-talkin’ her over.”
“What’s the matter?” Wainwright looked down at the floor. “Our Aggie,” he said. “She’s a big girl—near sixteen, an’ growed up.”
“Aggie’s a pretty girl,” said Ma. “Listen ’im out,” Pa said. “Well, her an’ your boy Al, they’re a-walkin’ out ever’ night. An’ Aggie’s a good healthy girl that oughta have a husban’, else she might git in trouble. We never had no trouble in our family. But what with us bein’ so poor off, now, Mis’ Wainwright an’ me, we got to worryin’. S’pose she got in trouble?”
Ma rolled down a mattress and sat on it. “They out now?” she asked. “Always out,” said Wainwright. “Ever’ night.”
“Hm. Well, Al’s a good boy. Kinda figgers he’s a dunghill rooster these days, but he’s a good steady boy. I couldn’ want for a better boy.”
“Oh, we ain’t complainin’ about Al as a fella! We like him. But what scares Mis’ Wainwright an’ me—well, she’s a growed-up woman-girl. An’ what if we go away, or you go away, an’ we find out Aggie’s in trouble? We ain’t had no shame in our family.”