“Then go and get it," I said.
"You wont get it here."
She went out, carrying the package, her feet making a little hissing on the floor.
She bumbled again at the door and went out.
I could see her through the glass going on down the street.
It was Albert told me about the rest of it He said the wagon was stopped in front of Grummet's hardware store, with the ladies all scattering up and down the street with handkerchiefs to their noses, and a crowd of hard-nosed men and boys standing around the wagon, listening to the marshal arguing with the man.
He was a kind of tall, gaunted man sitting on the wagon, saying it. was a public street and he reckoned he had as much right there as anybody, and the marshal telling him he would have to move on; folks couldn't stand it.
It had been dead eight days, Albert said.
They came from some place out in Yoknapatawpha county, trying to get to Jefferson with it.
It must have been like a piece of rotten cheese coming into an ant-hill, in that ramshackle wagon that Albert said folks were scared would fall all to pieces before they could get it out of town, with that home-made box and another fellow with a broken leg lying on a quilt on top of it, and the father and a little boy sitting on the seat and the marshal trying to make them get out of town.
"It's a public street," the man says.
'I reckon we can stop to buy something same as airy other man.
We got the money to pay for hit, and hit aint airy law that says a man cant spend his money where he wants."
They had stopped to buy some cement.
The other son was in Grummet's, trying to make Grummet break a sack and let him have ten cents' worth, and finally Grummet broke the sack to get him out.
They wanted the cement to fix the fellow's broken leg, someway.
"Why, you'll kill him," the marshal said.
"You'll cause him to lose his leg.
You take him on to a doctor, and you get this thing buried soon as you can.
Dont you know you're liable to jail for endangering the public health?"
"We're doing the best we can," the father said.
Then he told a long tale about how they had to wait for the wagon to come back and how the bridge was washed away and how they went eight miles to another bridge and it was gone too so they came back and swum the ford and the mules got drowned and how they got another team and found that the road was washed out and they had to come clean around by Mottson, and then the one with the cement came back and told him to shut up.
"We’ll be gone in a minute," he told the marshal.
"We never aimed to bother nobody," the father said.
"You take that fellow to a doctor," the marshal told the one with the cement.
"I reckon he's all right," he said.
"It aint that we're hard-hearted," the marshal said.
"But I reckon you can tell yourself how it is."
"Sho," the other said.
"We'll take out soon as Dewey Dell comes back.
She went to deliver a package."
So they stood there with the folks backed off with handkerchiefs to their faces, until in a minute the girl came up with that newspaper package.
"Come on," the one with the cement said, "we've lost too much time."
So they got in the wagon and went on.
And when I went to supper it still seemed like I could smell it.
And the next day I met the marshal and I began to sniff and said,
"Smell anything?"
“I reckon they're in Jefferson by now," he said.
"Or in jail.
Well, thank the Lord it's not our jail."
"That's a fact," he said.
Darl.
"Here's a place," pa says.
He pulls the team up and sits looking at the house,
"We could get some water over yonder."
"All right," I say.
'You'll have to borrow a bucket from them, Dewey Dell."
"God knows," pa says.
"I wouldn't be beholden, God knows."
"If you see a good-sized can, you might bring it," I say.