He says nothing, watching the door.
Then he looks down at the fish laying in the dust.
He turns it over with his foot and prods at the eye-bump with his toe, gouging at it.
Anse is looking out over the land.
Vardaman looks at Anse's face, then at the door.
He turns, going toward the corner of the house, when Anse calls him without looking around.
"You clean that fish," Anse says. Vardaman stops.
"Why cant Dewey Dell clean it?" he says.
"You clean that fish," Anse says.
"Aw, pa," Vardaman says.
"You clean it," Anse says.
He dont look around.
Vardaman comes back and picks up the fish.
It slides out of his hands, smearing wet dirt onto him, and flops down, dirtying itself again, gapmouthed, goggle-eyed, hiding into the dust like it was ashamed of being dead, like it was in a hurry to get back hid again.'
Vardaman cusses it. He cusses it like a grown man, standing a-straddle of it.
Anse dont look around.
Vardaman picks it up again.
He goes on around the house, toting it in both arms like a armful of wood, it overlapping him on both ends, head and tail.
Durn nigh big as he is.
Anse's wrists dangle out of his sleeves: I never see him with a shirt on that looked like it was his in all my life.
They all looked like Jewel might have give him his old ones.
Not Jewel, though.
He's long-armed, even if he is spindling.
Except for the lack of sweat.
You could tell they aint been nobody else's but Anse's that way without no mistake.
His eyes look like pieces of burnt-out cinder fixed in his face, looking out over the land.
When the shadow touches the steps he says
"It’s five oclock."
Just as I get up Cora comes to the door and says it's time to get on.
Anse reaches for his shoes.
"Now, Mr Bundren," Cora says, "dont you get up now."
He puts his shoes on, stomping into them, like he does everything, like he is hoping all the time he really cant do it and can quit trying to.
When we go up the hall we can hear them clumping on the floor like they was iron shoes.
He comes toward the door where she is, blinking his eyes, kind of looking ahead of hisself before he sees, like he is hoping to find her setting up, in a chair maybe or maybe sweeping, and looks into the door in that surprised way like he looks in and finds her still in bed every time and Dewey Dell still a-fanning her with the fan.
He stands there, like he dont aim to move again nor nothing else.
"Well, I reckon we better get on," Cora says.
"I got to feed the chickens."
It's fixing to rain, too.
Clouds like that dont lie, and the cotton making every day the Lord sends.
That'll be something else for him.
Cash is still trimming at the boards.
"If there's ere a thing we can do," Cora says.
"Anse’ll let us know," I say.
Anse dont look at us.
He looks around, blinking, in that surprised way, like he had wore hisself down being surprised and was even surprised at that.
If Cash just works that careful on my barn.
"I told Anse it likely wont be no need," I say.
"I so hope it."
"Her mind is set on it," he says.
"I reckon she's bound to go." "It comes to all of us," Cora says. "Let the Lord comfort you."