all that. And as young as this boy is, I don't see how he could have got too mean yet. Course I don't know."
"They get mean young nowadays." Pearl placed a pinch of snuff in her lower lip. "I see you ain't got the bottom back to your rocker."
"Nope, nor to the kitchen chairs. I think Bill said tomorrow or Tuesday."
"How do you know this boy?"
"Well, he's some kin to the dogcatcher, and it hit me in Sunday school this morning for some reason. The scripture about the least of these. You know: 'When you've done something for the least of these my brethren, you've done it for me.' I thought that maybe if I took a piece of cake and pie out to that boy it would be like taking it to Jesus."
"Was it?"
"Well, I don't know. I never took no food to Jesus."
"Did it seem like the same?"
"No. He didn't look like Jesus, or talk like him."
"Well, you wouldn't expect him to if he stole a car."
"No, I don't guess you would. Listen, why don't you stay for supper. I can warm up my peas and corn, and stringbeans. Or..." Mattie stood and started over to the refrigerator. "I could fix us some bacon and eggs."
"I don't like mayonnaise."
Mattie stopped and turned. "Bacon and eggs."
"Oh. That'd be nice. I thought you said mayonnaise."
"No, bacon and eggs."
"I don't like mayonnaise."
"I know that. Which do you want—vegetables or bacon and eggs?"
"I don't care. Whatever's easiest." Pearl stood, walked into the kitchen.
"Here, sit on this one with the board," said Mattie.
Pearl walked around the table, bent over, carefully adjusted the board.
"Remember how we used to take water to the prisoners working on the road." She sat down.
"I remember. Striped suits. You know, it's a wonder Mama would let us go." Mattie went to the refrigerator for eggs. "This fellow had nice eyes, looked okay, but his teeth were rotten and his hair right stringy."
"Had the hives?"
"Nice eyes."
"Well, you just can't tell."
"He sure did enjoy that cake and pie."
"I reckon he did."
"You want a piece of toast and jelly while the bacon finishes?"
"Sure."
"I'm all out of preserves," said Mattie. "I wish I had a mess of strawberries. Alora bought a quart of the biggest, reddest, prettiest strawberries you ever seen at a yard sale last week. Cellophane stretched across the top. They were so pretty she brought them over to show me before she opened them. I told her the pretty ones were on top and the ugly ones were on the bottom, but she told me next day they were all pretty."
"You know, I been thinking it's about time we had another yard sale," said Pearl.
"Maybe so. How about some Saturday. Say, Saturday week. That'll give us time to plan."
"Okay, fine with me. We'll have it at my house. More traffic."
VI
After Pearl left, Mattie found her glasses in the top bureau drawer and sat down on the couch. She turned on the lamp, got her Bible from the table and looked in the concordance under "least." It wouldn't be in the Old Testament. Luke 16:10. She looked. No. 1 Corinthians 6:4. No, that wasn't it. Matthew, it seemed like—well, she would have to ask Martha or Carrie or Clarence Vernon.
Mattie got up to find the paper so she could see what was coming on TV. She shouldn't be watching television on Sunday night; she should be going to church. But she was afraid to drive after dark, and Alora and Finner didn't go, and she didn't want to have somebody pick her up. She looked in the TV section of the newspaper for any animal programs. None.
Well, then, no TV. She'd play and sing some hymns. She went to the piano, sat, leafed through the Broad-man. Something simple to warm up on; something she could sing along with. Ah: key of G.
All hail the power of Jesus' name!
Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem,
And crown him Lord of all;
Bring forth the royal diadem,
And crown him Lord of all.
She thumbed through several pages. Here, here was one. "Love Lifted Me." B-flat. She played, remembering that it used to be
"They get mean young nowadays." Pearl placed a pinch of snuff in her lower lip. "I see you ain't got the bottom back to your rocker."
"Nope, nor to the kitchen chairs. I think Bill said tomorrow or Tuesday."
"How do you know this boy?"
"Well, he's some kin to the dogcatcher, and it hit me in Sunday school this morning for some reason. The scripture about the least of these. You know: 'When you've done something for the least of these my brethren, you've done it for me.' I thought that maybe if I took a piece of cake and pie out to that boy it would be like taking it to Jesus."
"Was it?"
"Well, I don't know. I never took no food to Jesus."
"Did it seem like the same?"
"No. He didn't look like Jesus, or talk like him."
"Well, you wouldn't expect him to if he stole a car."
"No, I don't guess you would. Listen, why don't you stay for supper. I can warm up my peas and corn, and stringbeans. Or..." Mattie stood and started over to the refrigerator. "I could fix us some bacon and eggs."
"I don't like mayonnaise."
Mattie stopped and turned. "Bacon and eggs."
"Oh. That'd be nice. I thought you said mayonnaise."
"No, bacon and eggs."
"I don't like mayonnaise."
"I know that. Which do you want—vegetables or bacon and eggs?"
"I don't care. Whatever's easiest." Pearl stood, walked into the kitchen.
"Here, sit on this one with the board," said Mattie.
Pearl walked around the table, bent over, carefully adjusted the board.
"Remember how we used to take water to the prisoners working on the road." She sat down.
"I remember. Striped suits. You know, it's a wonder Mama would let us go." Mattie went to the refrigerator for eggs. "This fellow had nice eyes, looked okay, but his teeth were rotten and his hair right stringy."
"Had the hives?"
"Nice eyes."
"Well, you just can't tell."
"He sure did enjoy that cake and pie."
"I reckon he did."
"You want a piece of toast and jelly while the bacon finishes?"
"Sure."
"I'm all out of preserves," said Mattie. "I wish I had a mess of strawberries. Alora bought a quart of the biggest, reddest, prettiest strawberries you ever seen at a yard sale last week. Cellophane stretched across the top. They were so pretty she brought them over to show me before she opened them. I told her the pretty ones were on top and the ugly ones were on the bottom, but she told me next day they were all pretty."
"You know, I been thinking it's about time we had another yard sale," said Pearl.
"Maybe so. How about some Saturday. Say, Saturday week. That'll give us time to plan."
"Okay, fine with me. We'll have it at my house. More traffic."
VI
After Pearl left, Mattie found her glasses in the top bureau drawer and sat down on the couch. She turned on the lamp, got her Bible from the table and looked in the concordance under "least." It wouldn't be in the Old Testament. Luke 16:10. She looked. No. 1 Corinthians 6:4. No, that wasn't it. Matthew, it seemed like—well, she would have to ask Martha or Carrie or Clarence Vernon.
Mattie got up to find the paper so she could see what was coming on TV. She shouldn't be watching television on Sunday night; she should be going to church. But she was afraid to drive after dark, and Alora and Finner didn't go, and she didn't want to have somebody pick her up. She looked in the TV section of the newspaper for any animal programs. None.
Well, then, no TV. She'd play and sing some hymns. She went to the piano, sat, leafed through the Broad-man. Something simple to warm up on; something she could sing along with. Ah: key of G.
All hail the power of Jesus' name!
Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem,
And crown him Lord of all;
Bring forth the royal diadem,
And crown him Lord of all.
She thumbed through several pages. Here, here was one. "Love Lifted Me." B-flat. She played, remembering that it used to be
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