carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第24章

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Dad　had　been　fixing　the　hall　and　the　dining…room　for　the　
party。　The　decoration　was　autumn　leaves　and　vines　and　red　
crepe　paper。　On　the　mantelpiece　in　the　dining…room　and　
sticking　up　behind　the　hatrack　there　were　bright　yellow　leaves。　
They　had　trailed　vines　along　the　walls　and　on　the　table　where　
the　punch　bowl　would　be。　The　red　cr￡pe　paper　hung　down　in　
long　fringes　from　the　mantel　and　also　was　looped　around　the　
backs　of　the　chairs。　There　was　plenty　decoration。　It　was　O。K。　
She　rubbed　her　hand　on　her　forehead　and　squinted　her　eyes。　
Bubber　stood　beside　her　and　copied　every　move　she　made。　'I　
sure　do　want　this　party　to　turn　out　all　right。　I　
sure　do。'　
This　would　be　the　first　party　she　had　ever　given。　She　had　
never　even　been　to　more　than　four　or　five。　Last　summer　she　
had　gone　to　a　prom　party。　But　none　of　the　boys　asked　her　to　
prom　or　dance；　she　just　stood　by　the　punch　bowl　until　all　the　
refreshments　were　gone　and　then　went　home。　This　party　was　
not　going　to　be　a　bit　like　that　one。　In　a　few88　

hours　now　the　people　she　had　invited　would　start　coming　and　
the　to…do　would　begin。　
It　was　hard　to　remember　just　how　she　got　the　idea　of　this　
party。　The　notion　came　to　her　soon　after　she　started　at　
Vocational。　High　School　was　swell。　Everything　about　it　was　
different　from　Grammar　School。　She　wouldn't　have　liked　it　so　
much　if　she　had　had　to　take　a　stenographic　course　like　Hazel　
and　Etta　had　done—but　she　got　special　permission　and　took　
mechanical　shop　like　a　boy。　Shop　and　Algebra　and　Spanish　
were　grand。　English　was　mighty　hard。　Her　English　teacher　
was　Miss　Minner。　Everybody　said　Miss　Minner　had　sold　her　


brains　to　a　famous　doctor　for　ten　thousand　dollars；　so　that　
after　she　was　dead　he　could　cut　them　up　and　see　why　she　was　
so　smart。　On　written　lessons　she　cracked　such　questions　as　
'Name　eight　famous　contemporaries　of　Doctor　Johnson；'　and　
'Quote　ten　lines　from　〃The　Vicar　of　Wakefield。〃　'　She　called　
on　people　by　the　alphabet　and　kept　her　grade　book　open　
during　the　lessons。　And　even　if　she　was　brainy　she　was　an　old　
sourpuss。　The　Spanish　teacher　had　traveled　once　in　Europe。　
She　said　that　in　France　the　people　carried　home　loaves　of　
bread　without　having　them　wrapped　up。　They　would　stand　
talking　on　the　streets　and　hit　the　bread　on　a　lamp　post。　And　
there　wasn't　any　water　in　France—only　wine。　
In　nearly　all　ways　Vocational　was　wonderful。　They　walked　
back　and　forth　in　the　hall　between　classes；　and　at　lunch　period　
students　hung　around　the　gym。　Here　was　the　thing　that　soon　
began　to　bother　her。　In　the　halls　the　people　would　walk　up　and　
down　together　and　everybody　seemed　to　belong　to　some　
special　bunch。　Within　a　week　or　two　she　knew　people　in　the　
halls　and　in　classes　to　speak　to　them—but　that　was　all。　She　
wasn't　a　member　of　any　bunch。　In　Grammar　School　she　would　
have　just　gone　up　to　any　crowd　she　wanted　to　belong　with　and　
that　would　have　been　the　end　of　the　matter。　Here　it　was　
different。　
During　the　first　week　she　walked　up　and　down　the　halls　by　
herself　and　thought　about　this。　She　planned　about　being　with　
some　bunch　almost　as　much　as　she　thought　of　music。　Those　
two　ideas　were　in　her　head　all　the　time。　And　finally　she　got　the　
idea　of　the　party。　

89　
She　was　strict　with　the　invitations。　No　Grammar　School　kids　
and　nobody　under　twelve　years　old。　She　just　asked　people　
between　thirteen　and　fifteen。　She　knew　everybody　she　invited　
good　enough　to　speak　to　them　in　the　halls—　and　when　she　
didn't　know　their　names　she　asked　to　find　out。　She　called　up　
those　who　had　a　telephone；　and　the　rest　she　invited　at　school。　
On　the　telephone　she　always　said　the　same　thing。　She　let　
Bubber　stick　in　his　ear　to　listen。　'This　is　Mick　Kelly；'　she　said。　
If　they　didn't　understand　the　name　she　kept　on　until　they　got　it。　
Tm　having　a　prom　party　at　eight　o'clock　Saturday　night　and　
I'm　inviting　you　now。　I　live　at　103　Fourth　Street；　Apartment　


A。'　That　Apartment　A　sounded　swell　on　the　telephone。　Nearly　
everybody　said　they　would　be　delighted。　A　couple　of　tough　
boys　tried　to　be　smarty　and　kept　on　asking　her　name　over　and　
over。　One　of　them　tried　to　act　cute　and　said；　'I　don't　know　you。'　
She　squelched　him　in　a　hurry：　'You　go　eat　grass！'　Outside　of　
that　wise　guy　there　were　ten　boys　and　ten　girls　and　she　knew　
that　they　were　all　coming。　This　was　a　real　party；　and　it　would　
be　better　and　different　from　any　party　she　had　ever　gone　to　or　
heard　about　before。　
Mick　looked　over　the　hall　and　dining…room　one　last　time。　By　
the　hatrack　she　stopped　before　the　picture　of　Old　Dirty…Face。　
This　was　a　photo　of　her　Mama's　grandfather。　He　was　a　major　
way　back　in　the　Civil　War　and　had　been　killed　in　a　battle。　
Some　kid　once　drew　eyeglasses　and　a　beard　on　his　picture；　
and　when　the　pencil　marks　were　erased　it　left　his　face　all　dirty。　
That　was　why　she　called　him　Old　Dirty…Face。　The　picture　was　
in　the　middle　of　a　three…part　frame。　On　both　sides　were　
pictures　of　his　sons。　They　looked　about　Bubber's　age。　They　
had　on　uniforms　and　their　faces　were　surprised。　They　had　
been　killed　in　battle　also。　A　long　time　ago。　
Tm　going　to　take　this　down　for　the　party。　I　think　it　looks　
common。　Don't　you？'　
'I　don't　know；'　Bubber　said。/Are　we　common；　Mick？'　'I'm　not。'　
She　put　the　picture　underneath　the　hatrack。　The　decoration　
was　O。K。　Mister　Singer　would　be　pleased　when　he　came　
home。　The　rooms　seemed　very　empty　and　quiet。　The90　

table　was　set　for　supper。　And　then　after　supper　it　would　be　
time　for　the　party。　She　went　into　the　kitchen　to　see　about　the　
refreshments。　
'You　think　everything　will　be　all　right？'　she　asked　Portia。　
Portia　was　making　biscuits。　The　refreshments　were　on　top　of　
the　stove。　There　were　peanut　butter　and　jelly　sandwiches　and　
chocolate　snaps　and　punch。　The　sandwiches　were　covered　
with　a　damp　dishcloth。　She　peeped　at　them　but　didn't　take　one。　
'I　done　told　you　forty　times　that　everthing　going　to　be　all　
right；'　Portia　said。　'Just　soon　as　I　come　back　from　fixing　supper　
at　home　I　going　to　put　on　that　white　apron　and　serve　the　food　
real　nice。　Then　I　going　to　push　off　from　here　by　nine…thirty。　
This　here　is　Saturday　night　and　Highboy　and　Willie　and　me　


haves　our　plans；　too。'　
'Sure；'　Mick　said。　'I　just　want　you　to　help　out　till　things　sort　of　
get　started—you　know。'　
She　gave　in　and　took　one　of　the　sandwiches。　Then　she　made　
Bubber　stay　with　Portia　and　went　into　the　middle　room。　The　
dress　she　would　wear　was　laying　out　on　the　bed。　Hazel　and　
Etta　had　both　been　good　about　lending　her　their　best　clothes—　
considering　that　they　weren't　supposed　to　come　to　the　party。　
There　was　Etta's　long　blue　crepe　de　chine　evening　dress　and　
some　white　pumps　and　a　rhine…stone　tiara　for　her　hair。　These　
clothes　were　really　gorgeous。　It　was　hard　to　imagine　how　she　
would　look　in　them。　
The　late　afternoon　had　come　and　the　sun　made　long；　yellow　
slants　through　the　window。　If　she　took　two　hours　over　
dressing　for　the　party　it　was　time　to　begin　now。　When　she　
thought　about　putting　on　the　fine　clothes　she　couldn't　just　sit　
around　and　wait。　Very　slowly　she　went　into　the　bathroom　and　
shucked　off　her　old　shorts　and　shirt　and　turned　on　the　water。　
She　scrubbed　the　rough　parts　of　her　heels　and　her　knees　and　
especially　her　elbows。　She　made　the　bath　take　a　long　time。　
She　ran　naked　into　the　middle　room　and　began　to　dress。　Silk　
teddies　she　put　on；　and　silk　stockings。　She　even　wore　one　of　
Etta's　brassieres　just　for　the　heck　of　it。　Then　very　carefully　she　
put　on　the　dress　and　stepped　into　the　pumps。　This　was　the　first　
time　she　had　ever　worn　an　evening　dress。　She　stood　for　a　long　
time　before　the　mirror。　She　was

　91　
so　tall　that　the　dress　came　up　two　or　three　inches　above　her　
ankles—and　the　shoes　were　so　short　they　hurt　her。　She　stood　
in　front　of　the　mirror　a　long　tune；　and　finally　decided　she　
either　looked　like　a　sap　or　else　she　looked　very　beautiful。　One　
or　the　other。　
Six　different　ways　she　tried　out　her　hair。　The　cowlicks　were　a　
little　trouble；　so　she　wet　her　bangs　and　made　three　spit　curls。　
Last　of　all　she　stuck　the　rhinestones　in　her　hair　and　put　on　
plenty　of　lipstick　and　paint。　When　she　finished　she　lifted