carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第71章

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coal　house。　Maybe　she　would　try　to　think　a　long　way　ahead　to　
the　time　when　she　would　go　north　and　see　snow；　or　even　
travel　somewhere　in　a　foreign　land。　But　these　thoughts　about　
good　things　wouldn't　last。　The　jello　was　gone　in　five　minutes　
and　the　cigarette　smoked。　Then　what　was　there　after　that？　And　
the　numbers　mixed　themselves　up　in　her　brain。　And　the　snow　
and　the　foreign　land　were　a　long；　long　time　away。　Then　what　
was　there？　
Just　Mister　Singer。　She　wanted　to　follow　him　everywhere。　In　
the　morning　she　would　watch　him　go　down　the　front　steps　to　
work　and　then　follow　along　a　half　a　block　behind　him。　Every　
afternoon　as　soon　as　school　was　over　she　hung　around　at　the　
corner　near　the　store　where　he　worked。　At　four　o'clock　he　
went　out　to　drink　a　Coca…Cola。　She　watched　him　cross　the　
street　and　go　into　the　drugstore　and　finally　come　out　again。　
She　followed　him　home　from　

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work　and　sometimes　even　when　he　took　walks。　She　always　
followed　a　long　way　behind　him。　And　he　did　not　know。　
She　would　go　up　to　see　him　in　his　room。　First　she　scrubbed　
her　face　and　hands　and　put　some　vanilla　on　the　front　of　her　
dress。　She　only　went　to　visit　him　twice　a　week　now；　because　
she　didn't　want　him　to　get　tired　of　her。　Most　always　he　would　
be　sitting　over　the　queer；　pretty　chess　game　when　she　opened　
the　door。　And　then　she　was　with　him。　
'Mister　Singer；　have　you　ever　lived　in　a　place　where　it　snowed　
in　the　winter…time？'　
He　tilted　his　chair　back　against　the　wall　and　nodded。　
'In　some　different　country　than　this　one—in　a　foreign　place？'　
He　nodded　yes　again　and　wrote　on　his　pad　with　his　silver　
pencil。　Once　he　had　traveled　to　Ontario；　Canada—across　the　
river　from　Detroit　Canada　was　so　far　up　north　that　the　white　


snow　drifted　up　to　the　roofs　of　the　houses。　That　was　where　the　
Quints　were　and　the　St。　Lawrence　River。　The　people　ran　up　
and　down　the　streets　speaking　French　to　each　other。　And　far　
up　in　the　north　there　were　deep　forests　and　white　ice　igloos。　
The　arctic　region　with　the　beautiful　northern　lights。　
〃When　you　was　in　Canada　did　you　go　out　and　get　any　fresh　
snow　and　eat　it　with　cream　and　sugar？　Once　I　read　where　it　
was　mighty　good　to　eat　that　way。'　
He　turned　his　head　to　one　side　because　he　didn't　understand。　
She　couldn't　ask　the　question　again　because　suddenly　it　
sounded　silly。　She　only　looked　at　him　and　waited。　A　big；　black　
shadow　of　his　head　was　on　the　wall　behind　him。　The　electric　
fan　cooled　the　thick；　hot　air。　All　was　quiet。　It　was　like　they　
waited　to　tell　each　other　things　that　had　never　been　told　
before。　What　she　had　to　say　was　terrible　and　afraid。　But　what　
he　would　tell　her　was　so　true　that　it　would　make　everything　all　
right。　Maybe　it　was　a　thing　that　could　not　be　spoken　with　
words　or　writing。　Maybe　he　would　have　to　let　her　understand　
this　in　a　different　way。　That　was　the　feeling　she　had　with　him。　
'I　was　just　asking　you　about　Canada—but　it　didn't　amount　to　
anything；　Mister　Singer。'　
Downstairs　in　the　home　rooms　there　was　plenty　of　trouble。　
Etta　was　still　so　sick　that　she　couldn't　sleep264　

crowded　three　in　a　bed。　The　shades　were　drawn　and　the　dark　
room　smelled　bad　with　a　sick　smell。　Etta's　job　was　gone；　and　
that　meant　eight　dollars　less　a　week　besides　the　doctor's　bill。　
Then　one　day　when　Ralph　was　walking　around　in　the　kitchen　
he　burned　himself　on　the　hot　kitchen　stove。　The　bandages　
made　his　hands　itch　and　somebody　had　to　watch　him　all　the　
time　else　he　would　bust　the　blisters。　On　George's　birthday　they　
had　bought　him　a　little　red　bike　with　a　bell　and　a　basket　on　the　
handlebars。　Everybody　had　chipped　in　to　give　it　to　him。　But　
when　Etta　lost　her　job　they　couldn't　pay；　and　after　two　
installments　were　past　due　the　store　sent　a　man　out　to　take　the　
wheel　away。　George　just　watched　the　man　roll　the　bike　off　the　
porch；　and　when　he　passed　George　kicked　the　back　fender　and　
then　went　into　the　coal　house　and　shut　the　door。　
It　was　money；　money；　money　all　the　time。　They　owed　to　the　
grocery　and　they　owed　the　last　payment　on　some　furniture。　


And　now　since　they　had　lost　the　house　they　owed　money　there　
too。　The　six　rooms　in　the　house　were　always　taken；　but　
nobody　ever　paid　the　rent　on　time。　
For　a　while　their　Dad　went　over　every　day　to　hunt　another　job。　
He　couldn't　do　carpenter　work　any　more　because　it　made　him　
jittery　to　be　more　than　ten　feet　off　the　ground。　He　applied　for　
many　jobs　but　nobody　would　hire　him。　Then　at　last　he　got　this　
notion。　
'It's　advertising；　Mick；'　he　said。　Tve　come　to　the　conclusion　
that's　all　in　the　world　the　matter　with　my　watch…repairing　
business　right　now。　I　got　to　sell　myself。　I　got　to　get　out　and　let　
people　know　I　can　fix　watches；　and　fix　them　good　and　cheap。　
You　just　mark　my　words。　Fm　going　to　build　up　this　business　
so　I'll　be　able　to　make　a　good　living　for　this　family　the　rest　of　
my　life。　Just　by　advertising。'　
He　brought　home　a　dozen　sheets　of　tin　and　some　red　paint。　For　
the　next　week　he　was　very　busy。　It　seemed　to　him　like　this　was　
a　hell　of　a　good　idea。　The　signs　were　all　over　the　floor　of　the　
front　room。　He　got　down　on　his　hands　and　knees　and　took　
great　care　over　the　printing　of　each　letter。　As　he　worked　he　
whistled　and　wagged　his　head。　He　hadn't　been　so　cheerful　and　
glad　in　months。　Every　now　and　then　he　would　have　to　dress　in　
his　good　suit　and　go　around　the　corner　for　a　glass　of　beer　to　
calm　himself。　On　the　signs　at　first　he　had：

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Wilbur　Kelly　
Watch　Repairing　
Very　Cheap　and　Expert　
*Mick；　I　want　them　to　hit　you　right　bang　in　the　eye。　To　stand　
out　wherever　you　see　them。'　
She　helped　him　and　he　gave　her　three　nickels。　The　signs　were　

O。K。　at　first。　Then　he　worked　on　them　so　much　that　they　were　
ruined。　He　wanted　to　add　more　and　more　things　—in　the　
corners　and　at　the　top　and　bottom。　Before　he　had　finished　the　
signs　were　plastered　all　over　with　'Very　Cheap'　and　'Come　At　
Once'　and　'You　Give　Me　Any　Watch　And　I　Make　It　Run。'　
'You　tried　to　write　so　much　in　the　signs　that　nobody　will　read　
anything；'　she　told　him。　
He　brought　home　some　more　tin　and　left　the　designing　up　to　
her。　She　painted　them　very　plain；　with　great　big　block　letters　

and　a　picture　of　a　clock。　Soon　he　had　a　whole　stack　of　them。　A　
fellow　he　knew　rode　him　out　in　the　country　where　he　could　
nail　them　to　trees　and　fenceposts。　At　both　ends　of　the　block　he　
put　up　a　sign　with　a　black　hand　pointing　toward　the　house。　
And　over　the　front　door　there　was　another　sign。　
The　day　after　this　advertising　was　finished　he　waited　in　the　
front　room　dressed　in　a　clean　shirt　and　a　tie。　Nothing　
happened。　The　jeweler　who　gave　him　overflow　work　to　do　at　
half　price　sent　in　a　couple　of　clocks。　That　was　all。　He　took　it　
hard。　He　didn't　go　out　to　look　for　other　jobs　any　more；　but　
every　minute　he　had　to　be　busy　around　the　house。　He　took　
down　the　doors　and　oiled　the　hinges—　whether　they　needed　it　
or　not。　He　mixed　the　margarine　for　Portia　and　scrubbed　the　
floors　upstairs。　He　worked　out　a　contraption　where　the　water　
from　the　ice　box　could　be　drained　through　the　kitchen　
window。　He　carved　some　beautiful　alphabet　blocks　for　Ralph　
and　invented　a　little　needle…threader。　Over　the　few　watches　
that　he　had　to　work　on　he　took　great　pains。　
Mick　still　followed　Mister　Singer。　But　she　didn't　want　to。　It　
was　like　there　was　something　wrong　about　her　following　after　
him　without　his　knowing。　Two　or　three　days　she　played　hookv　
from　school。　She　walked　behind　him　when　he　went　to　work　
and　hung　around　on　the　corner　near　his266　

267　
store　all　day。　When　he　ate　his　dinner　at　Mister　Brannon's　she　
went　into　the　caf6　and　spent　a　nickel　for　a　sack　of　peanuts。　
Then　at　night　she　followed　him　on　these　dark；　long　walks。　She　
stayed　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　street　from　him　and　about　a　
block　behind。　When　he　stopped；　she　stopped　also—and　when　
he　walked　fast　she　ran　to　keep　up　with　him。　So　long　as　she　
could　see　him　and　be　near　him　she　was　right　happy。　But　
sometimes　this　queer　feeling　would　come　to　her　and　she　knew　
that　she　was　doing　wrong。　So　she　tried　hard　to　keep　busy　at　
home。　
She　and　her　Dad　were　alike　in　the　way　that　now　they　always　
had　to　be　fooling　wit