governor, and they moved on, singing more softly, “Why do I weep, when my heart should feel no pain?”
They arrive in King and Queen Courthouse before noon. Tommie bids Mr. Evans good-bye and continues on to Little Plymouth, where Aunt Jane hugs him and fusses over him again as if he has been gone two weeks instead of two nights. An hour later he’s sitting down to dinner with her and Willie. She tells him a letter arrived from Lillie. He had forgotten the letter, and for a moment he says nothing.
Jane continues, “She says in it that she’s going down to Point Comfort to take care of a friend’s sick aunt. Can you imagine? Here I am, with you boys away all the time, and she can’t come here and spend some time with me. After all I’ve done for her. My health hasn’t been anything to brag about this winter, as I’ve told her.”
“She’ll probably stop by, if she can,” Tommie says.
“It would be out of her way,” Jane says, shaking her head. “I don’t want to be a bother to her, but you’d think if she took the trouble to write she could spare me a day or two. What I don’t understand, though, is why she didn’t ask me for anything. Not even a dollar. It’s strange.”
“She probably just wanted to keep you up with her doings,” Tommie suggests. Willie glances at him, but doesn’t say anything.
“Well, you read it for yourself and see what you can make of it.” She looks at him over the top of her eyeglasses, which are secured around her neck with a gold chain. Tommie knows the look as one of worry, but he cannot help reading accusation in it.
He peruses the letter and nods, as though he doesn’t already know its contents. Then he mentions the nice weather and asks Willie about the crops, and he repeats a story Mr. Evans told him about a farmer who worked for his father. Animals kept eating the front row of beans, so Mr. Evans’s father told him, “Looks like you should quit planting that front row.” The farmer nodded and turned, and about halfway back to the field he suddenly got it. He chuckled so hard his shoulders went to his ears.
“You’re in a fine humor today,” Willie tells his brother. “Lawyering suits you, I believe.” He smiles and takes in his brother’s entire countenance in a glance, and Tommie knows he is being scrutinized. Did something ring false in his speech or his manner? After dinner he talks to Aunt Jane for a while, then goes out to the machine shop where he finds Willie sharpening mower blades. He likes watching his brother work. Though manual labor never had appeal for Tommie, he takes comfort in the skill and care with which his brother goes about the job.
“Let me take over for you,” Tommie says.
Willie looks surprised but yields his stool. Right away, Tommie cuts his thumb on the blade. “I’m out of practice,” he says, sucking the crescent of blood. He lights a cigarette to steady his hands, leans back, and mentions the cottage in Little Plymouth he’s interested in. If he could just get to that point, he thinks—say, a month from now—then maybe the storm will have passed.
And he’s there, smoking a cigarette and talking about the house he wants to buy, when he hears the back porch bell ringing and Jane hollering, “Boys, oh, Lord, boys come quickly.”
Justice Richardson heads over to the cheap boardinghouse where Mr. Madison and his brother-in-law have spent the night. He goes in and finds the brother-in-law, Lillian’s uncle, finished with breakfast and ready to go. The father seems in no hurry to get out to the almshouse and identify his dead daughter. Nor does he seem particularly distressed. He’s a stout man, with a thick sinewy neck, white hair, and a grizzled beard, his hands strong and worn as leather. His wrinkled necktie bunches his collar so that when he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs up as if for air. Walker is thin, clean-shaven, and at least a decade younger than Madison. Both of them wear old, cracked
They arrive in King and Queen Courthouse before noon. Tommie bids Mr. Evans good-bye and continues on to Little Plymouth, where Aunt Jane hugs him and fusses over him again as if he has been gone two weeks instead of two nights. An hour later he’s sitting down to dinner with her and Willie. She tells him a letter arrived from Lillie. He had forgotten the letter, and for a moment he says nothing.
Jane continues, “She says in it that she’s going down to Point Comfort to take care of a friend’s sick aunt. Can you imagine? Here I am, with you boys away all the time, and she can’t come here and spend some time with me. After all I’ve done for her. My health hasn’t been anything to brag about this winter, as I’ve told her.”
“She’ll probably stop by, if she can,” Tommie says.
“It would be out of her way,” Jane says, shaking her head. “I don’t want to be a bother to her, but you’d think if she took the trouble to write she could spare me a day or two. What I don’t understand, though, is why she didn’t ask me for anything. Not even a dollar. It’s strange.”
“She probably just wanted to keep you up with her doings,” Tommie suggests. Willie glances at him, but doesn’t say anything.
“Well, you read it for yourself and see what you can make of it.” She looks at him over the top of her eyeglasses, which are secured around her neck with a gold chain. Tommie knows the look as one of worry, but he cannot help reading accusation in it.
He peruses the letter and nods, as though he doesn’t already know its contents. Then he mentions the nice weather and asks Willie about the crops, and he repeats a story Mr. Evans told him about a farmer who worked for his father. Animals kept eating the front row of beans, so Mr. Evans’s father told him, “Looks like you should quit planting that front row.” The farmer nodded and turned, and about halfway back to the field he suddenly got it. He chuckled so hard his shoulders went to his ears.
“You’re in a fine humor today,” Willie tells his brother. “Lawyering suits you, I believe.” He smiles and takes in his brother’s entire countenance in a glance, and Tommie knows he is being scrutinized. Did something ring false in his speech or his manner? After dinner he talks to Aunt Jane for a while, then goes out to the machine shop where he finds Willie sharpening mower blades. He likes watching his brother work. Though manual labor never had appeal for Tommie, he takes comfort in the skill and care with which his brother goes about the job.
“Let me take over for you,” Tommie says.
Willie looks surprised but yields his stool. Right away, Tommie cuts his thumb on the blade. “I’m out of practice,” he says, sucking the crescent of blood. He lights a cigarette to steady his hands, leans back, and mentions the cottage in Little Plymouth he’s interested in. If he could just get to that point, he thinks—say, a month from now—then maybe the storm will have passed.
And he’s there, smoking a cigarette and talking about the house he wants to buy, when he hears the back porch bell ringing and Jane hollering, “Boys, oh, Lord, boys come quickly.”
Justice Richardson heads over to the cheap boardinghouse where Mr. Madison and his brother-in-law have spent the night. He goes in and finds the brother-in-law, Lillian’s uncle, finished with breakfast and ready to go. The father seems in no hurry to get out to the almshouse and identify his dead daughter. Nor does he seem particularly distressed. He’s a stout man, with a thick sinewy neck, white hair, and a grizzled beard, his hands strong and worn as leather. His wrinkled necktie bunches his collar so that when he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs up as if for air. Walker is thin, clean-shaven, and at least a decade younger than Madison. Both of them wear old, cracked
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