Flannery O'Connor Complete Short Stories by Flannery O’Connor Page A

muttered without drawing his attention from the blind man.
    â€œWell, you
got a dear old mother, ain’t you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell shaw,” the man said, with his hand cupped to the people, “he needs one theseyer just to keep him company.”
    Enoch Emery thought that was so funny that he leaned over and slapped his knee, but Hazel Motes didn’t look as if he had heard it yet. “I’m going to give away half a dozen peeled potatoes to the first person purchasing one theseyer machines,” the man said. “Who’s gonna step up first? Only a dollar and a half for a machine’d cost you
three dollars in any store!” Enoch Emery began fumbling in his pockets. “You’ll thank the day you
ever stopped here,” the man said, “you’ll never forget it. Ever one of you
people purchasing one theseyer machines’ll never forget it.”
    The blind man began to move straight forward suddenly and the peeler man got ready to hand him one of the green boxes, but he went past the card table and turned, moving at a right angle back in among the people. He was handing something out. Then Haze saw that the child was moving around too, giving out white leaflets. There were not many people gathered there, but the ones who were began to move off. When the machine-seller saw this, he leaned, glaring, over the card table. “Hey you!”
he yelled at the blind man, “what you
think you
doing? Who you
think you
are, running people off from here?”
    The blind man didn’t pay him any mind. He kept on handing out the pamphlets. He handed one at Enoch Emery and then he came toward Haze, hitting the white cane at an angle from his leg.
    â€œWhat the hell you
think you
doing?” the man selling peelers yelled. “I got these people together, how
y
o
u
think you
can horn in?”
    The blind man had a peculiar boiled looking red face. He thrust one of the pamphlets a little to the side of Haze and Haze grabbed it. It was a tract. The words on the outside of it said, “Jesus Calls You.”
    â€œI’d like to know who the hell you
think you
are!” the man with the peelers was yelling. The child passed the card table again and handed him a tract. He looked at it for an instant with his lip curled, and then he charged around the card table, upsetting the bucket of potatoes. “These damn Jesus fanatics,” he yelled, glaring around, trying to find the blind man. More people had gathered, hoping to see a disturbance, and the blind man had disappeared among them. “These goddam Communist Jesus Foreigners!” the peeler man screamed. “I got this crowd together!” He stopped, realizing there was a crowd.
    â€œListen folks,” he said, “one at a time, there’s plenty to go around, just don’t push, a half dozen peeled potatoes to the first person stepping up to buy.” He got back behind the card table quietly and started holding up the peeler boxes. “Step on up, plenty to go around,” he said, “no need to crowd.”
    Hazel Motes didn’t open his tract. He looked at the outside of it and then he tore it across. He put the two pieces together and tore them across again. He kept restacking the pieces and tearing them again until he had a little handful of confetti. He turned his hand over and let the shredded leaflet sprinkle to the ground. Then he looked up and saw the blind man’s child not three feet away, watching him. Her mouth was open and her eyes glittered on him like two chips of green bottle glass. She had on a black dress and there was a white gunny sack hung over her shoulder. Haze scowled and began rubbing his sticky hands on his pants.
    â€œI seen you,” she said. Then she moved quickly over to where the blind man was standing now, beside the card table. Most of the people had moved off.
    The peeler man leaned over the card table and said, “Hey!” to the