carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第9章

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up　with　her。　She　hitched　her　shorts　and　jerked　the　belt　a　notch　
tighter。　Ralph　was　still　crying；　but　she　paid　the　sound　no　
attention　and　went　into　the　new；　empty　house。　
Last　month　they　had　put　a　sign　out　in　front　saying　that　no　
children　were　allowed　on　the　lot。　A　gang　of　kids　had　been　


scuffling　around　inside　the　rooms　one　night；　and　a　girl　who　
couldn't　see　in　the　dark　had　run　into　a　room　that　hadn't　been　
floored　and　fallen　through　and　broken　her　leg。　She　was　still　at　
the　hospital　in　a　plaster　parish　cast。　Also；　another　time　some　
tough　boys　wee…weed　all　over　one　of　the　walls　and　wrote　
some　pretty　bad　words。　But　no　matter　how　many　Keep　Out　
signs　were　put　up；　they　couldn't　run

　31


kids　away　until　the　house　had　been　painted　and　finished　and　
people　had　moved　in。　
The　rooms　smelled　of　new　wood；　and　when　she　walked　the　
soles　of　her　tennis　shoes　made　a　flopping　sound　that　echoed　
through　all　the　house。　The　air　was　hot　and　quiet。　She　stood　
still　in　the　middle　of　the　front　room　for　a　while；　and　then　she　
suddenly　thought　of　something。　She　fished　in　her　pocket　and　
brought　out　two　stubs　of　chalk—one　green　and　the　other　red。　
Mick　drew　the　big　block　letters　very　slowly。　At　the　top　she　
wrote　EDISON；　and　under　that　she　drew　the　names　of　DICK　
TRACY　and　MUSSOLINI。　Then　in　each　corner　with　the　
largest　letters　of　all；　made　with　green　and　outlined　in　red；　she　
wrote　her　initials—M。K。　When　that　was　done　she　crossed　
over　to　the　opposite　wall　and　wrote　a　very　bad　word—　
PUSSY；　and　beneath　that　she　put　her　initials；　too。　
She　stood　in　the　middle　of　the　empty　room　and　stared　at　what　
she　had　done。　The　chalk　was　still　in　her　hands　and　she　did　not　
feel　really　satisfied。　She　was　trying　to　think　of　the　name　of　
this　fellow　who　had　written　this　music　she　heard　over　the　
radio　last　whiter。　She　had　asked　a　girl　at　school　who　owned　a　
piano　and　took　music　lessons　about　him；　and　the　girl　asked　her　
teacher。　It　seemed　this　fellow　was　just　a　kid　who　had　lived　in　
some　country　in　Europe　a　good　while　ago。　But　even　if　he　was　
just　a　young　kid　he　had　made　up　all　these　beautiful　pieces　for　
the　piano　and　for　the　violin　and　for　a　band　or　orchestra　too。　In　
her　mind　she　could　remember　about　six　different　tunes　from　
the　pieces　of　his　she　had　heard。　A　few　of　them　were　kind　of　
quick　and　tinkling；　and　another　was　like　that　smell　in　the　
springtime　after　a　rain。　But　they　all　made　her　somehow　sad　
and　excited　at　the　same　time。　
She　hummed　one　of　the　tunes；　and　after　a　while　in　the　hot；　
empty　house　by　herself　she　felt　the　tears　come　in　her　eyes。　Her　


throat　got　tight　and　rough　and　she　couldn't　sing　any　more。　
Quickly　she　wrote　the　fellow's　name　at　the　very　top　of　the　list　
—MOTSART。　
Ralph　was　tied　in　the　wagon　just　as　she　had　left　him。　He　sat　up　
quiet　and　still　and　his　fat　little　hands　held　on　to　the　sides。　
Ralph　looked　like　a　little　Chinese　baby　with　his　square　black　
bangs　and　bis　black　eyes。　The　sun　was　in　his32　

face；　and　that　was　why　he　had　been　hollering。　Bubber　was　
nowhere　around。　When　Ralph　saw　her　coming　he　began　
tuning　up　to　cry　again。　She　pulled　the　wagon　into　the　shade　by　
the　side　of　the　new　house　and　took　from　her　shirt　pocket　a　
blue…colored　jelly　bean。　She　stuck　the　candy　in　the　baby's　
warm；　soft　mouth。　
'Put　that　in　your　pipe　and　smoke　it；'　she　said　to　him。　In　a　way　it　
was　a　waste；　because　Ralph　was　still　too　little　to　get　the　real　
good　flavor　out　of　candy。　A　clean　rock　would　be　about　the　
same　to　him；　only　the　little　fool　would　swallow　it。　He　didn't　
understand　any　more　about　taste　than　he　did　about　talking。　
When　you　said　you　were　so　sick　and　tired　of　dragging　him　
around　you　had　a　good　mind　to　throw　him　in　the　river；　it　was　
the　same　to　him　as　if　you　had　been　loving　him。　Nothing　much　
made　any　difference　to　him。　That　was　why　it　was　such　an　
awful　bore　to　haul　him　around。　
Mick　cupped　her　hands；　clamped　them　tight　together；　and　
blew　through　the　crack　between　her　thumbs。　Her　cheeks　
puffed　out　and　at　first　there　was　only　the　sound　of　air　rushing　
through　her　fists。　Then　a　high；　shrill　whistle　sounded；　and　
after　a　few　seconds　Bubber　came　out　from　around　the　corner　
of　the　house。　
She　rumpled　the　sawdust　out　of　Bubber's　hair　and　straightened　
Ralph's　cap。　This　cap　was　the　finest　thing　Ralph　had。　It　was　
made　out　of　lace　and　all　embroidered。　The　ribbon　under　bis　
chin　was　blue　on　one　side　and　white　on　the　other；　and　over　
each　ear　there　were　big　rosettes。　His　head　had　got　too　big　for　
the　cap　and　the　embroidery　scratched；　but　she　always　put　it　on　
him　when　she　took　him　out。　Ralph　didn't　have　any　real　baby　
carriage　like　most　folks'　babies　did；　or　any　summer　bootees。　
He　had　to　be　dragged　around　in　a　tacky　old　wagon　she　had　got　
for　Christmas　three　years　before。　But　the　fine　cap　gave　him　


face。
There　was　nobody　on　the　street；　for　it　was　late　Sunday
morning　and　very　hot。　The　wagon　screeched　and　rattled。
Bubber　was　barefooted　and　the　sidewalk　was　so　hot　it　burned
his　feet。　The　green　oak　trees　made　cool…looking　black　shadows
on　the　ground；　but　that　was　not　shade　enough。


'Get　up　in　the　wagon；'　she　told　Bubber。　'And　let　Ralph　sit　in
your　lap。
'
'I　can　walk　all　right。
'
The　long　summer…time　always　gave　Bubber　the　colic。　He
didn't　have　on　a　shirt　and　his　ribs　were　sharp　and　white。　The
sun　made　him　pale　instead　of　brown；　and　his　little　titties　were
like　blue　raisins　on　his　chest。
'I　don't　mind　pulling　you；'　Mick　said。　'Get　on　in。
'
*O。K。
'
Mick　dragged　the　wagon　slowly　because　she　was　not　in　any
hurry　to　get　home。　She　began　talking　to　the　kids。　But　it　was
really　more　like　saying　things　to　herself　than　words　said　to
them。
'This　is　a　funny　thing—the　dreams　I've　been　having　lately。　It's
like　I'm　swimming。　But　instead　of　water　I'm　pushing　out　my
arms　and　swimming　through　great　big　crowds　of　people。　The
crowd　is　a　hundred　times　bigger　than　in　Kresses'　store　on
Saturday　afternoon。　The　biggest　crowd　in　the　world。　And
sometimes　I'm　yelling　and　swimming　through　people；
knocking　them　all　down　wherever　I　go—　and　other　times　Fm
on　the　ground　and　people　are　trompling　all　over　me　and　my
insides　are　oozing　out　on　the　sidewalk。　I　guess　it's　more　like　
a
nightmare　than　a　plain
On　Sundays　the　house　was　always　full　of　folks　because　the
boarders　had　visitors。　Newspapers　rustled　and　there　was　cigar
smoke；　and　footsteps　always　on　the　stairs。
'Some　things　you　just　naurally　want　to　keep　private。　Not
because　they　are　bad；　but　because　you　just　want　them　secret。
There　are　two　or　three　things　I　wouldn't　want　even　you　to
know　about'
Bubber　got　out　when　they　came　to　the　corner　and　helped　her
lift　the　wagon　down　the　curb　and　get　it　up　on　the　next



sidewalk。　
'But　there's　one　thing　I　would　give　anything　for。　And　that's　a　
piano。　If　we　had　a　piano　I'd　practice　every　single　night　and　
learn　every　piece　in　the　world。　That's　the　thing　I；　want　more　
than　anything　else。'　
They　had　come　to　their　own　home　block　now。　Their　house　
was　only　a　few　doors　away。　It　was　one　of　the　biggest　houses　
on　the　whole　north　side　of　town—three　storiesi*　
high。　But　then　there　were　fourteen　people　in　the　family。　There　
weren't　that　many　in　the　real；　blood　Kelly　family—　but　they　
ate　there　and　slept　there　at　five　dollars　a　head　and　you　plight　
as　well　count　them　on　in。　Mr。　Singer　wasn't　counted　in　that　
because　he　only　rented　a　room　and　kept　it　straightened　up　
himself。　
The　house　was　narrow　and　had　not　been　painted　for　many　
years。　It　did　hot　seem　to　be　built　strong　enough　for　its　three　
stories　of　height。　It　sagged　on　one　side。　
Mick　untied　Ralph　and　lifted　him　from　the　wagon。　She　darted　
quickly　through　the　hall；　and　from　the　corner　of　her　eye　she　
saw　that　the　living…room　was　full　of　boarders。　Her　Dad　was　
there；　too。　Her　Mama　would　be　in　the　kitchen。　They　were　all　
hanging　around　waiting　for　dinner…time。　
She　went　into　the　first　of　the　three　rooms　that　the　family　kept　
for　themselves。　She　put　Ralph　down　on　the　bed　where　her　Dad　
and　Mama　slept　and　gave　him　a　string　of　beads　to　play　with。　
From　behind　the　closed　door　of　the　next　room　she　could　hear　
the　sound　of　voices；　and　she　decided　to　go　inside。　
Hazel　and