Faulkner Reader

by William Faulkner

  And just about the time I got ready to begin on it because if Earl thought I was going to dash up the street and gobble two bits worth of indigestion on his account he was bad fooled. I may not be sitting with my feet on a mahogany desk but I am being paid for what I do inside this building and if I can manage to live a civilised life outside of it I’ll go where I can. I can stand on my own feet; I dont need any man’s mahogany desk to prop me up. So just about the time I got ready to start I’d have to drop everything and run to sell some redneck a dime’s worth of nails or something, and Earl up there gobbling a sandwich and half way back already, like as not, and then I found that all the blanks were gone. I remembered then that I had aimed to get some more, but it was too late now, and then I looked up and there Quentin came. In the back door. I heard her asking old Job if I was there. I just had time to stick them in the drawer and close it.

  She came around to the desk. I looked at my watch.

  “You been to dinner already?” I says. “It’s just twelve; I just heard it strike. You must have flown home and back.”

  “I’m not going home to dinner,” she says. “Did I get a letter today?”

  “Were you expecting one?” I says. “Have you got a sweetie that can write?”

  “From Mother,” she says. “Did I get a letter from Mother?” she says, looking at me.

  “Mother got one from her,” I says. “I haven’t opened it. You’ll have to wait until she opens it. She’ll let you see it, I imagine.”

  “Please, Jason,” she says, not paying any attention, “Did I get one?”

  “What’s the matter?” I says. “I never knew you to be this anxious about anybody. You must expect some money from her.”

  “She said she—” she says. “Please, Jason,” she says, “Did I?”

  “You must have been to school today, after all,” I says, “Somewhere where they taught you to say please. Wait a minute, while I wait on that customer.”

  I went and waited on him. When I turned to come back she was out of sight behind the desk. I ran. I ran around the desk and caught her as she jerked her hand out of the drawer. I took the letter away from her, beating her knuckles on the desk until she let

  “You would, would you?” I says.

  “Give it to me,” she says, “You’ve already opened it Give it to me. Please, Jason. It’s mine. I saw the name,”

  “I’ll take a hame string to you,” I says, “That’s what I’ll give you. Going into my papers.”

  “Is there some money in it?” she says, reaching for it “She said she would send me some money. She promised she would. Give it to me.”

  “What do you want with money?” I says.

  “She said she would,” she says, “Give it to me. Please, Jason. I wont ever ask you anything again, if you’ll give it to me this time.”

  “I’m going to, if you’ll give me time,” I says. I took the letter and the money order out and gave her the letter. She reached for the money order, not hardly glancing at the letter. “You’ll have to sign it first,” I says.

  “How much is it?” she says.

  “Read the letter,” I says. “I reckon it’ll say.”

  She read it fast, in about two looks.

  “It dont say,” she says, looking up. She dropped the letter to the floor. “How much is it?”

  “It’s ten dollars,” I says.

  “Ten dollars?” she says, staring at me.

  “And you ought to be damn glad to get that,” I says “A kid like you. What are you in such a rush for money all of a sudden for?”

  “Ten dollars?” she says, like she was talking in her sleep, “Just ten dollars?” She made a grab at the money order. “You’re lying,” she says. “Thief!” she says, “Thief!”

  “You would, would you?” I says, holding her off.

  “Give it to me!” she says, “It’s mine. She sent it to me. I will see it. I will.”

  “You will?” I says, holding her, “How’re you going to do it?”

  “Just let me see it, Jason,” she says, “Please. I wont ask you for anything again.”

  “Think I’m lying, do you?” I says. “Just for that you wont see it.”

  “But just ten dollars,” she says, “She told me she—she told me—Jason, please please please. I’ve got to have some money. I’ve just got to. Give it to me, Jason. I’ll do anything if you will.”

  “Tell me what you’ve got to have money for,” I says.

  “I’ve got to have it,” she says. She was looking at me. Then all of a sudden she quit looking at me without moving her eyes at all. I knew she was going to lie. “It’s some money I owe,” she says. “I’ve got to pay it. I’ve got to pay it today.”

  “Who to?” I says. Her hands were sort of twisting. I could watch her trying to think of a lie to tell. “Have you been charging things at stores again?” I says. “You needn’t bother to tell me that. If you can find anybody in this town that’ll charge anything to you after what I told them, I’ll eat it.”

  “It’s a girl,” she says, “It’s a girl. I borrowed some money from a girl. I’ve got to pay it back. Jason, give it to me. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ve got to have it. Mother will pay you. I’ll write to her to pay you and that I wont ever ask her for anything again. You can see the letter. Please, Jason. I’ve got to have it.”

  “Tell me what you want with it, and I’ll see about it,” I says. “Tell me.” She just stood there, with her hands working against her dress. “All right,” I says, “If ten dollars is too little for you, I’ll just take it home to Mother, and you know what’ll happen to it then. Of course, if you’re so rich you dont need ten dollars—”

  She stood there, looking at the floor, kind of mumbling to herself. “She said she would send me some money. She said she sends money here and you say she dont send any. She said she’s sent a lot of money here. She says it’s for me. That it’s for me to have some of it. And you say we haven’t got any money.”

  “You know as much about that as I do,” I says. “You’ve seen what happens to those checks.”

  “Yes” she says, looking at the floor. “Ten dollars,” she says, “Ten dollars.”

  “And you’d better thank your stars it’s ten dollars,” I says. “Here,” I says. I put the money order face down on the desk, holding my hand on it, “Sign it.”

  “Will you let me see it?” she says. “I just want to look at it. Whatever it says, I wont ask for but ten dollars. You can have the rest. I just want to see it.”

  “Not after the way you’ve acted,” I says. “You’ve got to learn one thing, and that is that when I tell you to do something, you’ve got it to do. You sign your name on that line.”

  She took the pen, but instead of signing it she just stood there with her head bent and the pen shaking in her hand. Just like her mother. “Oh, God,” she says, “oh, God.”

  “Yes,” I says, “That’s one thing you’ll have to learn if you never learn anything else. Sign it now, and get on out of here.”

  She signed it. “Where’s the money?” she says. I took the order and blotted it and put it in my pocket. Then I gave her the ten dollars.

  “Now you go on back to school this afternoon, you hear?” I says. She didn’t answer. She crumpled the bill up in her hand like it was a rag or something and went on out the front door just as Earl came in. A customer came in with him and they stopped up front. I gathered up the things and put on my hat and went up front.

  “Been much busy?” Earl says.

  “Not much,” I says. He looked out the door.

  “That your car over yonder?” he says. “Better not try to go out home to dinner. We’ll likely have another rush just before the show opens. Get you a lunch at Rogers’ and put a ticket in the drawer.”

  “Much obliged,” I says. “I can still manage to feed myself, I reckon.”

  And right there he’d stay, watching that door like a hawk until I came through it again. Well, he’d just have to watch it
for a while; I was doing the best I could. The time before I says that’s the last one now; you’ll have to remember to get some more right away. But who can remember anything in all this hurrah. And now this damn show had to come here the one day I’d have to hunt all over town for a blank check, besides all the other things I had to do to keep the house running, and Earl watching the door like a hawk.

  I went to the printing shop and told him I wanted to play a joke on a fellow, but he didn’t have anything. Then he told me to have a look in the old opera house, where somebody had stored a lot of papers and junk out of the old Merchants’ and Farmers’ Bank when it failed, so I dodged up a few more alleys so Earl couldn’t see me and finally found old man Simmons and got the key from him and went up there and dug around. At last I found a pad on a Saint Louis bank. And of course she’d pick this one time to look at it close. Well, it would have to do. I couldn’t waste any more time now.

  I went back to the store. “Forgot some papers Mother wants to go to the bank,” I says. I went back to the desk and fixed the check. Trying to hurry and all, I says to myself it’s a good thing her eyes are giving out, with that little whore in the house, a Christian forbearing woman like Mother. I says you know just as well as I do what she’s going to grow up into but I says that’s your business, if you want to keep her and raise her in your house just because of Father. Then she would begin to cry and say it was her own flesh and blood so I just says All right. Have it your way. I can stand it if you can.

  I fixed the letter up again and glued it back and went out.

  “Try not to be gone any longer than you can help,” Earl says.

  “All right,” I says. I went to the telegraph office. The smart boys were all there.

  “Any of you boys made your million yet?” I says.

  “Who can do anything, with a market like that?” Doc says.

  “What’s it doing?” I says. I went in and looked. It was three points under the opening. “You boys are not going to let a little thing like the cotton market beat you, are you?” I says. “I thought you were too smart for that.”

  “Smart, hell,” Doc says. “It was down twelve points at twelve oclock. Cleaned me out.”

  “Twelve points?” I says. “Why the hell didn’t somebody let me know? Why didn’t you let me know?” I says to the operator.

  “I take it as it comes in,” he says. “I’m not running a bucket shop.”

  “You’re smart, aren’t you?” I says. “Seems to me, with the money I spend with you, you could take time to call me up. Or maybe your damn company’s in a conspiracy with those damn eastern sharks.”

  He didn’t say anything. He made like he was busy.

  “You’re getting a little too big for your pants.” I says. “First thing you know you’ll be working for a living.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” Doc says. “You’re still three points to the good.”

  “Yes,” I says, “If I happened to be selling. I haven’t mentioned that yet, I think. You boys all cleaned out?”

  “I got caught twice,” Doc says. “I switched just in time.”

  “Well,” I. O. Snopes says, “I’ve picked hit; I reckon taint no more than fair fer hit to pick me once in a while.”

  So I left them buying and selling among themselves at a nickel a point. I found a nigger and sent him for my car and stood on the corner and waited. I couldn’t see Earl looking up and down the street, with one eye on the clock, because I couldn’t see the door from here. After about a week he got back with it.

  “Where the hell have you been?” I says, “Riding around where the wenches could see you?”

  “I come straight as I could,” he says, “I had to drive clean around the square, wid all dem wagons.”

  I never found a nigger yet that didn’t have an airtight alibi for whatever he did. But just turn one loose in a car and he’s bound to show off. I got in and went on around the square. I caught a glimpse of Earl in the door across the square.

  I went straight to the kitchen and told Dilsey to hurry up with dinner.

  “Quentin aint come yit,” she says.

  “What of that?” I says. “You’ll be telling me next that Luster’s not quite ready to eat yet. Quentin knows when meals are served in this house. Hurry up with it, now.”

  Mother was in her room. I gave her the letter. She opened it and took the check out and sat holding it in her hand. I went and got the shovel from the corner and gave her a match. “Come on,” I says, “Get it over with. You’ll be crying in a minute.”

  She took the match, but she didn’t strike it. She sat there, looking at the check. Just like I said it would be.

  “I hate to do it,” she says, “To increase your burden by adding Quentin.…”

  “I guess we’ll get along,” I says. “Come on. Get it over with.”

  But she just sat there, holding the check.

  “This one is on a different bank,” she says. “They have been on an Indianapolis bank.”

  “Yes,” I says. “Women are allowed to do that too.”

  “Do what?” she says.

  “Keep money in two different banks,” I says.

  “Oh,” she says. She looked at the check a while. “I’m glad to know she’s so … she has so much … God sees that I am doing right,” she says.

  “Come on,” I says, “Finish it. Get the fun over.”

  “Fun?” she says, “When I think—”

  “I thought you were burning this two hundred dollars a month for fun,” I says. “Come on, now. Want me to strike the match?”

  “I could bring myself to accept them,” she says, “For my children’s sake. I have no pride.”

  “You’d never be satisfied,” I says, “You know you wouldn’t. You’ve settled that once, let it stay settled. We can get along.”

  “I leave everything to you,” she says. “But sometimes I become afraid that in doing this I am depriving you all of what is rightfully yours. Perhaps I shall be punished for it. If you want me to, I will smother my pride and accept them.”

  “What would be the good in beginning now, when you’ve been destroying them for fifteen years?” I says. “If you keep on doing it, you have lost nothing, but if you’d begin to take them now, you’ll have lost fifty thousand dollars. We’ve got along so far, haven’t we?” I says. “I haven’t seen you in the poorhouse yet.”

  “Yes,” she says, “We Bascombs need nobody’s charity. Certainly not that of a fallen woman.”

  She struck the match and lit the check and put it in the shovel, and then the envelope, and watched them burn.

  “You dont know what it is” she says, “Thank God you will never know what a mother feels.”

  “There are lots of women in this world no better than her,” I says.

  “But they are not my daughters,” she says. “It’s not myself,” she says, “I’d gladly take her back, sins and all, because she is my flesh and blood. It’s for Quentin’s sake.”

  Well, I could have said it wasn’t much chance of anybody hurting Quentin much, but like I say I dont expect much but I do want to eat and sleep without a couple of women squabbling and crying in the house.

  “And yours,” she says. “I know how you feel toward her.”

  “Let her come back,” I says, “far as I’m concerned.”

  “No,” she says. “I owe that to your father’s memory.”

  “When he was trying all the time to persuade you to let her come home when Herbert threw her out?” I says.

  “You dont understand,” she says. “I know you dont intend to make it more difficult for me. But it’s my place to suffer for my children,” she says. “I can bear it.”

  “Seems to me you go to a lot of unnecessary trouble doing it,” I says. The paper burned out. I carried it to the grate and put it in. “It just seems a shame to me to burn up good money,” I says.

  “Let me never see the day when my children will have to accept that, the wages of sin,” she says
. “I’d rather see even you dead in your coffin first.”

  “Have it your way,” I says. “Are we going to have dinner soon?” I says, “Because if we’re not, I’ll have to go on back. We’re pretty busy today.” She got up. “I’ve told her once,” I says. “It seems she’s waiting on Quentin or Luster or somebody. Here, I’ll call her. Wait.” But she went to the head of the stairs and called.

  “Quentin aint come yit,” Dilsey says.

  “Well, I’ll have to get on back,” I says. “I can get a sandwich down town. I dont want to interfere with Dilsey’s arrangements,” I says. Well, that got her started again, with Dilsey hobbling and mumbling back and forth, saying,

  “All right, all right, Ise puttin hit on fast as I kin.”

  “I try to please you all,” Mother says, “I try to make things as easy for you as I can.”

  “I’m not complaining, am I?” I says. “Have I said a word except I had to go back to work?”

  “I know,” she says, “I know you haven’t had the chance the others had, that you’ve had to bury yourself in a little country store. I wanted you to get ahead. I knew your father would never realise that you were the only one who had any business sense, and then when everything else failed I believed that when she married, and Herbert … after his promise …”

  “Well, he was probably lying too,” I says. “He may not have even had a bank. And if he had, I dont reckon he’d have to come all the way to Mississippi to get a man for it.”

  We ate awhile. I could hear Ben in the kitchen, where Luster was feeding him. Like I say, if we’ve got to feed another mouth and she wont take that money, why not send him down to Jackson. He’ll be happier there, with people like him. I says God knows there’s little enough room for pride in this family, but it dont take much pride to not like to see a thirty year old man playing around the yard with a nigger boy, running up and down the fence and lowing like a cow whenever they play golf over there. I says if they’d sent him to Jackson at first we’d all be better off today. I says, you’ve done your duty by him; you’ve done all anybody can expect of you and more than most folks would do, so why not send him there and get that much benefit out of the taxes we pay. Then she says, “I’ll be gone soon. I know I’m just a burden to you” and I says “You’ve been saying that so long that I’m beginning to believe you” only I says you’d better be sure and not let me know you’re gone because I’ll sure have him on number seventeen that night and I says I think I know a place where they’ll take her too and the name of it’s not Milk street and Honey avenue either. Then she begun to cry and I says All right all right I have as much pride about my kinfolks as anybody even if I dont always know where they come from.