“It didn’ hurt.
Jus’ stuck a little.”
“You oughta been pierced long ago,” said Ma.
She looked at the girl’s face, and she smiled in triumph.
“Now get them dishes all done up.
Your baby gonna be a good baby.
Very near let you have a baby without your ears was pierced.
But you’re safe now.”
“Does it mean somepin?”
“Why, ’course it does,” said Ma. “’Course it does.”
Al strolled down the street toward the dancing platform.
Outside a neat little tent he whistled softly, and then moved along the street.
He walked to the edge of the grounds and sat down in the grass.
The clouds over the west had lost the red edging now, and the cores were black.
Al scratched his legs and looked toward the evening sky.
In a few moments a blond girl walked near; she was pretty and sharp-featured.
She sat down in the grass beside him and did not speak.
Al put his hand on her waist and walked his fingers around.
“Don’t,” she said. “You tickle.”
“We’re goin’ away tomorra,” said Al.
She looked at him, startled.
“Tomorra?
Where?”
“Up north,” he said lightly.
“Well, we’re gonna git married, ain’t we?”
“Sure, sometime.”
“You said purty soon!” she cried angrily.
“Well, soon is when soon comes.”
“You promised.” He walked his fingers around farther. “Git away,” she cried. “You said we was.”
“Well, sure we are.”
“An’ now you’re goin’ away.”
Al demanded,
“What’s the matter with you?
You in a fambly way?”
“No, I ain’t.”
Al laughed.
“I jus’ been wastin’ my time, huh?”
Her chin shot out. She jumped to her feet.
“You git away from me, Al Joad.
I don’ wanta see you no more.”
“Aw, come on.
What’s the matter?”
“You think you’re jus’—hell on wheels.”
“Now wait a minute.”
“You think I got to go out with you.
Well, I don’t!
I got lots a chances.”
“Now wait a minute.”
“No, sir—you git away.”
Al lunged suddenly, caught her by the ankle, and tripped her.