by Eudora Welty
Well, if he did, the verdict served him right.
"Edna Earle," says Uncle Daniel, when I got him safe through the street and the front door of this hotel, "I've got good news for you. I'm coming to live with you for keeps. In the best room you can give me in the Beulah Hotel."
I says, "Grand." I says, "That's the room you're in already, Number One at the head of the stairs."
He hung his hat there and went right on through the lobby and started up that staircase without looking around for a soul—and there really wasn't a soul. I stood there at the foot and watched him go. I started to call to him I'd give him the hotel back. But I thought the next minute: no use starting him off again.
He got as far as the landing and turned around and called down, "You fooled me up yonder at Court this afternoon, Edna Earle, I declare you did. But never mind—I'm staying just the same. You didn't fool me as bad as Bonnie Dee did."
"Well, I hope not," I said. "You better go on up and wash your face and hands, and lie down till you're ready for your supper. Just let me call you."
But he don't enjoy it any more. Empty nouse, empty hotel, might as well be an empty town. He don't know what's become of everybody. Even the preacher says he has a catch in his back, just temporary. And if people are going to try being ashamed of Uncle Daniel, he's going to feel it. Pm here, and just the same as I always was and will be, but then he never was afraid of losing me.
So Grandpa's house is standing out there in grass. The Peppers are keeping on with the crop, though they don't have a notion who for, or where they stand. Who does?
You see, that money has come between the Ponders and everybody else in town. There it still is, on their hands. (I'm sure the Peacocks have spent theirs in Polk, without a qualm—for something they don't have the ghost of a use for.) Here Clay sits and don't know what to do with it. All dressed up and no place to go, so to speak. There's been talk, I hear, of something civic—an arch to straddle the highway with the words in lights, "Clay. If You Lived Here You'd Be Home Now." I spot that as a Sistrunk idea.
And I haven't seen a soul in here in three days. You'd think Eva Sistrunk, at least, would be beginning to get lonesome. So I wasn't sorry to see you come in. Uncle Daniel will express a welcome too. You're the first!
He comes down a little later every night. One of these times I'm going to start him on a good course of calomel-and-quinine. I'm a pretty good doser myself. But it's time now supper was ready.
Narcissi Put three on the tablet
At least I've got somebody now that can cook—if she just would. But Narciss don't cook good any more. I hate to tell you—her rice won't stand apart. She don't cook any better than Ada or Ada's sister ever did. She claims she's lonesome in town.
And you know, Bonnie Dee Peacock, ordinary as she was and trial as she was to put up with—she's the kind of person you do miss. I don't know why—deliver me from giving you the reason. You could look and find her like anywhere. Though Pm sure Bonnie Dee and Uncle Daniel were as happy together as most married people.
And it may be anybody's heart would quail, trying to keep up with Uncle Daniel's. But I don't give Bonnie Dee Peacock too much credit for trying.
I'm going to holler—Uncle Daniel!
I'd like to warn you again, he may try to give you something—may think he's got something to give. If he does, do me a favor. Make out like you accept it. Tell him thank you.
Uncle Daniel? Uncle Daniel! We've got company!
Now he'll be down.
Books by Eudora Welty and available from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, in paperback editions
THE BRIDE OF THE INNISFALLEN
AND OTHER STORIES
THE COLLECTED STORIES OF EUDORA WELTY
A CURTAIN OF GREEN AND OTHER STORIES
DELTA WEDDING
THE GOLDEN APPLES
THEPONDERHEART
THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM
THIRTEEN STORIES
THE WIDE NET AND OTHER STORIES
About the Author
EUDORA WELTY (1909-2001) was born in Jackson, Mississippi, and attended the Mississippi State College for Women, the University of Wisconsin, and Columbia University (where she studied advertising). In addition to short fiction, Welty wrote novels, novellas, essays, and reviews, and was the winner of both the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize.