John Steinbeck Fullscreen Grapes of Wrath (1939)

Pause

“It ain’t gonna do me no good to tell stuff to you.”

“Le’s go look,” Winfield said.

“I already been,” Ruthie said. “I already set on ’em.

I even pee’d in one.”

“You never neither,” said Winfield.

They went to the unit building, and that time Ruthie was not afraid.

Boldly she led the way into the building.

The toilets lined one side of the large room, and each toilet had its compartment with a door in front of it.

The porcelain was gleaming white.

Hand basins lined another wall, while on the third wall were four shower compartments.

“There,” said Ruthie. “Them’s the toilets.

I seen ’em in the catalogue.” The children drew near to one of the toilets.

Ruthie, in a burst of bravado, boosted her skirt and sat down. “I tol’ you I been here,” she said.

And to prove it, there was a tinkle of water in the bowl.

Winfield was embarrassed.

His hand twisted the flushing lever.

There was a roar of water.

Ruthie leaped into the air and jumped away.

She and Winfield stood in the middle of the room and looked at the toilet.

The hiss of water continued in it.

“You done it,” Ruthie said. “You went an’ broke it.

I seen you.”

“I never.

Honest I never.”

“I seen you,” Ruthie said. “You jus’ ain’t to be trusted with no nice stuff.”

Winfield sunk his chin.

He looked up at Ruthie and his eyes filled with tears. His chin quivered.

And Ruthie was instantly contrite.

“Never you mind,” she said.

“I won’t tell on you.

We’ll pretend like she was already broke.

We’ll pretend we ain’t even been in here.” She led him out of the building.

The sun lipped over the mountain by now, shone on the corrugated-iron roofs of the five sanitary units, shone on the gray tents and on the swept ground of the streets between the tents. And the camp was waking up. The fires were burning in camp stoves, in the stoves made of kerosene cans and of sheets of metal. The smell of smoke was in the air. Tent flaps were thrown back and people moved about in the streets.

In front of the Joad tent Ma stood looking up and down the street.

She saw the children and came over to them.

“I was worryin’,” Ma said. “I didn’ know where you was.”

“We was jus’ lookin’,” Ruthie said.

“Well, where’s Tom?

You seen him?”

Ruthie became important.

“Yes, ma’am.

Tom, he got me up an’ he tol’ me what to tell you.” She paused to let her importance be apparent.

“Well—what?” Ma demanded.

“He said tell you —” She paused again and looked to see that Winfield appreciated her position.

Ma raised her hand, the back of it toward Ruthie.

“What?”

“He got work,” said Ruthie quickly. “Went out to work.” She looked apprehensively at Ma’s raised hand.

The hand sank down again, and then it reached out for Ruthie.

Ma embraced Ruthie’s shoulders in a quick convulsive hug, and then released her.

Ruthie stared at the ground in embarrassment, and changed the subject.