Houseboat Girl (14 page)

“I don’t believe that,” said Dan.

“Let’s go to the store here,” said Patsy.

“And get candy,” said Dan.

“We haven’t any money,” said Patsy.

“Let’s ask Daddy,” said Dan.

“Oh, he never has any,” said Patsy. “He gives it all to Mama, and she took her purse with her.”

“Well, let’s go anyhow,” said Dan.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Patsy. “I’ll take my eggs and sell ’em to the store man and then we’ll have money to spend.” She hurried to the kitchen and put half a dozen eggs her hens had laid into a paper sack.

“You takin’ all of them?” asked Dan. “What’ll we eat for breakfast?”

“Oh, the hens will lay some more,” said Patsy. “I’ll feed ’em good.”

The children started up the river bank with the dog Blackie beside them.

“I hope those Harris kids won’t be around,” said Patsy. “We just won’t give them a single bite of our candy.”

“We’ll chase ’em if we see ’em,” said Dan, looking forward to a real fight.

But when they got up to the road, they forgot about the Harris kids,

“Look!” said Dan. “Daddy’s sign is gone.”

“Where was it?” asked Patsy.

“On the tree right here,” said Dan. “I watched Daddy paint it and I came with him when he nailed it up.”

“Are you sure it was on this tree?” asked Patsy.

“Yes, here’s one of the nails still sticking in,” said Dan.

“Where’s it gone to—the fish sign?” Patsy’s heart was beating so fast, she could hardly talk. “Do you suppose Andy Dillard came and took it down?”

“I don’t know,” said Dan. “It was there last night and now it’s gone. Let’s go tell Daddy.”

“What’s that over there?” asked Patsy, pointing to some bushes.

Dan went to look. “Here, it is,” he said. “It’s chopped to pieces.”

“Oh
no!”
cried Patsy.

Dan picked up the pieces and when they fitted them together it said FISH DOCK. They took them down to show Daddy.

Daddy said, “Put them down. I’ll fix the sign and put it up again. Now you go and play.”

Dan and Patsy went up the river bank again. Patsy still carried her eggs.

“I wish we had somebody to play with,” said Patsy. “Somebody as nice as Ginny Cobb and the Cramer girls.”

“I wonder where those Harris kids live,” said Dan. “Maybe they would play with us.”

“No, not after we threw stones at them,” said Patsy.

“Maybe we could be nice to them,” said Dan. “If they’re the only kids around here, we got to have somebody to play with.”

“Well…” said Patsy, “I s’pose they’d be better than nobody.”

When they came to the road, there were the Harris kids again, as big as life. They always seemed to be hanging around the store. Why weren’t they ever at home? Where did they live anyhow? They all had lollipops in their mouths and were sucking hard. They didn’t even say
Hello.
Blackie yipped at them the way he did at strangers.

“They’ve got more money than we’ve got,” Dan whispered to Patsy. “They can buy lollipops. I wish I had one.”

“Lollipops is my favorite candy,” said Patsy. “Come on, we won’t look at them.”

She and Dan hurried up the steps and went into the store. Blackie went in, too. The children had been in the store only once before, so now they took time to look around. It was nicer than any of the stores along the Mississippi River. It smelled good—a sort of cheesy-crackery-onion-harness-kerosene smell. It was more crowded than a dime store in a river town.

The children looked in the candy case and picked out the lollipops they wanted. Then they went to the storekeeper at the back counter. A short fat man was leaning on the counter talking.

Patsy asked the storekeeper, “You want to buy some eggs? Nice and fresh?” The man looked in her sack.

“Pretty small,” he said. “Them your hens out there, runnin’ all over the river bank?”

“They don’t go far,” said Patsy. “They always come home to roost.”

The short fat man peeked into the egg sack, too. He winked at the storekeeper and said, “Mighty small, mighty small! They look more like hoot owl eggs to me! Reckon them hens got mixed up with some hoot owls?” The two men roared with laughter.

It made Patsy very angry. “Hoot owl, nothing!” she cried, closing her sack and starting away.

“Hey, come back if you want to sell ’em,” called the storekeeper.

“If you make fun of my eggs, I won’t sell ’em to you,” said Patsy with dignity. “Come on, Dan.”

“Aw, Patsy…” coaxed Dan. “I want some candy…”

But Patsy was out on the store porch by that time. Right there, leaning against the railing, all four of the Harris kids were standing, still sucking on their lollipops. It made Patsy jealous to see them.

Suddenly the big girl, Joella, called out,
“We
can have all the candy
we
want!”

“Huh!” said Patsy. “Who cares?”

“All we need to do is go right in and take it!” said Joella.

“That’s
stealing!”
cried Patsy. “I’ll tell the storekeeper on you. He’ll put you in jail!”

All four children burst out laughing. They laughed and laughed and made Patsy and Dan feel very uncomfortable. They laughed so loud that Blackie started barking.

“You don’t even know who the storekeeper is!” cried Joella.

“Well—who is he?” demanded Patsy.

“He’s our
father!”
cried all the Harris kids together.

“Your
father?”
cried Patsy weakly.

“This is our father’s store,” said Joella. “He runs it for Mr. George, the boss man. He lets us have all the candy we want, and bananas too, when he gets ’em. That’s why I didn’t want one of yours.”

“Where do you live?” asked Patsy in a chastened voice.

Joella pointed to the rear of the store, where several rooms were added on. “Right here,” she said. “Right in back of the store.”

Patsy and Dan looked at each other and felt very foolish. This made everything different. They wished now they had never thrown stones. Now they knew why the Harris kids were always hanging around the store. Patsy felt awkward. She did not know what to do next, but Joella did.

“Come on inside,” said Joella, so they went back in the store.

When they came out, Dan and Patsy were each sucking a lollipop. And Patsy had a quarter in her pocket, which Joella’s father had given her for the eggs. He even told her he knew they were real hen eggs. So Patsy felt better.

The lollipops made all the difference. The Harris kids were nice after all. Patsy and Dan would never throw stones at them again. Now they had somebody to play with.

When they started down the river bank, they saw that Daddy’s fish sign was back up in its place on the tree. They wondered how long it would stay there. Dan showed the sign to Blackie.

“You be a good watch dog,” he said. “If anybody comes to tear that sign down, bite a big hole in the seat of his pants!”

Blackie wagged his tail agreeably.

“Do you think Daddy will have a fight with Andy Dillard?” asked Dan.

“Oh—I hope not,” said Patsy.

At first, O’Donald Bend had seemed a terrible place—with no house, no town, no friends—a terrible place to get away from. But now that Andy Dillard was trying to chase Daddy out of the chute, Patsy’s whole feeling had changed. Now, and especially after she found out that the Harris kids were friendly, she wanted desperately to stay. That very day something else happened to strengthen this feeling.

In the afternoon, Joella Harris came down to see her. Joella’s hair was combed, her face was washed and she had a pretty dress on. With her were two other girls. They said their names were Grace Eva and Brenda Collins and they lived up the road.

“Come on up to our house,” said Grace Eva.

So Patsy walked with them up the river road toward Tomato. They passed the little abandoned one-room rural Bend school-house. And the girls talked about what fun it was to ride the bus to school in town.

“What grade you in?” asked Joella.

“I passed to fourth,” said Patsy.

“Oh, then you’ll be in my class!” Brenda put her arm around Patsy. “Will you sit next to me on the bus?”

Warmed by their friendship, Patsy could not tell them that the Fosters might not stay, that they might be forced by Andy Dillard to go off to some unknown place down river. All she knew was that Mama had said they would not return to Illinois.

The girls passed by cotton fields and sharecropper cabins and soon came to the Collins home. It was small and unpainted, with steps up at front and back. The steps were so high it must mean very high water.

“Does the river come way up here?” asked Patsy.

“Yes, in early spring,” said Grace Eva. “Then we can’t go to school. The school bus comes only to the levee and that’s a mile back. So we just stay home.”

Inside, the house was very plain, with three small rooms. There were beds in two rooms, and a wood stove, table and chairs in the kitchen. On the floor were patches of linoleum. The walls were papered with newspapers and there were no curtains at the windows. A few groceries could be seen in a cupboard. A water bucket and basin sat on a shelf outside the back door.

“Where’s your mother?” asked Joella.

“She went in the truck to Cane Ridge to get water,” said Grace Eva.

“Want a cold drink?” asked Brenda.

“Sure,” said Patsy and Joella.

“Let’s make Fruitade,” said Grace Eva. “It won’t be very cold, ’cause we don’t have any ice, but it’s good anyhow.”

The girl took a pan, went down the back steps and filled it with water from a barrel that stood there. Brenda found an envelope with pink powder in it. She poured the powder into the water and stirred it with a spoon. Grace Eva took a cracker box from the window sill and passed crackers around. Brenda poured the Fruitade into glasses. It was lukewarm and oversweet, but the girls drank it and said it was good. Then they went down the steps and visited under the big oak tree.

The girls talked about how soon school would start. They talked about the overcrowded school bus and laughed at the way the boys and girls fought and pummeled each other on the way. They talked about the good hot lunches served at the school. Their eagerness for school to open made Patsy eager, too. Maybe this school at Luxora would be all right. Maybe it would be as good as the one at River City—or even better.

Then her new friends turned sad.

“Wish we didn’t have to stay out so much,” said Joella, “to pick that mean old cotton.”

Grace Eva and Brenda agreed.

“They don’t give us ‘cotton vacation’ any more at the town school, to let kids pick,” said Grace. “So we just have to stay out.”

“What do you pick cotton for?” asked Patsy in surprise.

“Oh, we get paid for it, we need the money,” said Brenda.

“Our Daddy’s a sharecropper,” said Grace Eva, “so all of us have to help him get out his crop. Mama, too.”

“Is it hard work?” asked Patsy.

Now the girls looked at her in surprise. “You’ve never picked any cotton?” they asked.

“No,” said Patsy. “I don’t know how.”

“Why, where you been keepin’ yourself?” asked Brenda.

“I lived on the river all my life,” said Patsy, “until Mama put me in school in River City and we lived in a house there. I did three grades in two years.”

Life on the river was something new to the cotton girls.

“And you never picked any cotton?” they asked.

Cotton was so much a part of their life, they could not imagine not, knowing about it. It was a new idea to them that there were people in the world who did not pick cotton. They looked at Patsy in astonishment, as she shook her head.

“We’ll show you how,” the girls said laughing.

The Collins girls walked back with Joella and Patsy to the corner by the store.

“Want to see my houseboat?” asked Patsy.

“Oh, sure!” “Yes, yes. It sure looks nice,” they said.

They went down the river bank and Patsy took them inside. The girls thought it was wonderful. They liked the bunk beds and Patsy promised to invite them to stay overnight and sleep in them sometime. They had never seen bottled gas before and were surprised when Patsy turned the burner on and it lighted itself from the pilot light.