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

blind man. “I reckon that showed you. Trying to horn in.” But the blind man stood there with his chin tilted back slightly as if he saw something over their heads.
    â€œLookerhere,” Enoch Emery said, “I ain’t got but a dollar sixteen cent but I. . . .”
    â€œYah,” the man said, as if he were going to make the blind man see him, “I reckon that’ll show you you can’t muscle in on me. Sold eight peelers, sold. . . .”
    â€œGive me one of them,” the child said, pointing to the peelers.
    â€œHanh?” he said.
    She reached in her pocket and drew out a long coin purse and opened it. “Give me one of them,” she said, holding out two fifty cent pieces.
    The man eyed the money with his mouth hiked on one side. “A buck fifty, sister,” he said.
    She pulled her hand in quickly and all at once glared around at Hazel Motes as if he had made a noise at her. The blind man was moving off. She stood a second glaring red-faced at Haze and then she turned and followed the blind man. Haze started suddenly.
    â€œListen,” Enoch Emery said, “I ain’t got but a dollar sixteen cent and I want me one of them. . . .”
    â€œYou can keep it,” the man said, taking the bucket off the card table. “This ain’t no cut-rate joint.”
    Hazel Motes stood staring after the blind man, jerking his hands in and out of his pockets. He looked as if he were trying to move forward and backward at the same time. Then suddenly he thrust two bills at the man selling peelers and snatched a box off the card table and started down the street. In just a second Enoch Emery was panting at his elbow.
    â€œMy, I reckon you got a heap of money,” Enoch Emery said. Haze turned the corner and saw them about a block ahead of him. Then he slowed down some and saw Enoch Emery there. Enoch had on a yellowish white suit with a pinkish white shirt and his tie was a greenpeaish color. He was grinning. He looked like a friendly hound dog with light mange. “How long you been here?” he inquired.
    â€œTwo days,” Haze muttered.
    â€œI been here two months,” Enoch said. “I work for the city. Where you work?”
    â€œNot working,” Haze said.
    â€œThat’s too bad,” Enoch said. “I work for the city.” He skipped a step to get in line with Haze, then he said, “I’m eighteen year old and I ain’t been here but two months and I already work for the city.”
    â€œThat’s fine,” Haze said. He pulled his hat down farther on the side Enoch Emery was on and walked faster.
    â€œI didn’t ketch your name good,” Enoch said.
    Haze said his name.
    â€œYou look like you might be follering them hicks,” Enoch remarked. “You go in for a lot of Jesus?”
    â€œNo,” Haze said.
    â€œNo,
me neither, not much,” Enoch agreed. “I went to thisyer Rodemill Boys’ Bible Academy for four weeks. Thisyer woman that traded me from my daddy she sent me; she was a Welfare woman. Jesus, four weeks and I thought I was gonna be sanctified crazy.”
    Haze walked to the end of the block and Enoch stayed all the time at his elbow, panting and talking. When Haze started across the street, Enoch yelled, “Don’t you see theter light! That means you got to wait!” A cop blew a whistle and a car blasted its horn and stopped short. Haze went on across, keeping his eyes on the blind man in the middle of the block. The policeman kept blowing the whistle. He crossed the street over to where Haze was and stopped him. He had a thin face and oval-shaped yellow eyes.
    â€œYou know what that little thing hanging up there is for?” he asked, pointing to the traffic light over the intersection.
    â€œI didn’t see it,” Haze said.
    The policeman looked at him without saying anything. A few people stopped. He rolled his eyes at them. “Maybe you thought the red