carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第19部分

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and　because　he　didn't　earn　much　money　he　felt　like　he　was　cut　
off　from　the　family。　And　in　his　lonesomeness　he　wanted　to　be　
close　to　one　of　his　kids　—and　they　were　all　so　busy　that　they　
didn't　know　it。　He　felt　like　he　wasn't　much　real　use　to　
anybody。　
She　understood　this　while　they　were　looking　at　each　other。　It　
gave　her　a　queer　feeling。　Her　Dad　picked　up　a　watch　spring　
and　cleaned　it　with　a　brush　dipped　in　gasoline。　
'I　know　you're　in　a　hurry。　I　just　hollered　to　say　hello。'　*No；　I'm　
not　in　any　rush；'　she　said。　'Honest。'　That　night　she　sat　down　in　
a　chair　by　his　bench　and　they　talked　awhile。　He　talked　about　
accounts　and　expenses　and86　
how　things　would　have　been　if　he　had　just　managed　in　a　
different　way。　He　drank　beer；　and　once　the　tears　came　to　his　
eyes　and　he　snuffled　his　nose　against　his　shirt…sleeve。　She　
stayed　with　him　a　good　while　that　night。　Even　if　she　was　in　an　
awful　hurry。　Yet　for　some　reason　she　couldn't　tell　him　about　
the　things　in　her　mind—about　the　hot；　dark　nights。　
These　nights　were　secret；　and　of　the　whole　summer　they　were　
the　most　important　time。　In　the　dark　she　walked　by　herself　and　
it　was　like　she　was　the　only　person　in　the　town。　Almost　every　


street　came　to　be　as　plain　to　her　in　the　nighttime　as　her　own　
home　block。　Some　kids　were　afraid　to　walk　through　strange　
places　in　the　dark；　but　she　wasn't。　Girls　were　scared　a　man　
would　come　out　from　somewhere　and　put　his　teapot　in　them　
like　they　was　married。　Most　girls　were　nuts。　If　a　person　the　
size　of　Joe　Louis　or　Mountain　Man　Dean　would　jump　out　at　
her　and　want　to　fight　she　would　run。　But　if　it　was　somebody　
within　twenty　pounds　her　weight　she　would　give　him　a　good　
sock　and　go　right　on。　
The　nights　were　wonderful；　and　she　didn't　have　time　to　think　
about　such　things　as　being　scared。　Whenever　she　was　in　the　
dark　she　thought　about　music。　While　she　walked　along　the　
streets　she　would　sing　to　herself。　And　she　felt　like　the　whole　
town　listened　without　knowing　it　was　Mick　Kelly。　
She　learned　a　lot　about　music　during　these　free　nights　in　the　
summer…time。　When　she　walked　out　in　the　rich　parts　of　town　
every　house　had　a　radio。　All　the　windows　were　open　and　she　
could　hear　the　music　very　marvelous。　After　a　while　she　knew　
which　houses　tuned　in　for　the　programs　she　wanted　to　hear。　
There　was　one　special　house　that　got　all　the　good　orchestras。　
And　at　night　she　would　go　to　this　house　and　sneak　into　the　
dark　yard　to　listen。　There　was　beautiful　shrubbery　around　this　
house；　and　she　would　sit　under　a　bush　near　the　window。　And　
after　it　was　all　over　she　would　stand　in　the　dark　yard　with　her　
hands　in　her　pockets　and　think　for　a　long　time。　That　was　the　
realest　part　of　all　the　summer—her　listening　to　this　music　on　
the　radio　and　studying　about　it　
'Cerra　fa　puerta；　senor'　Mick　said。　

87　
Bubber　was　sharp　as　a　briar。　'Haga　me　usted　el　favor；　
senorita；'　he　answered　as　a　comeback。　
It　was　grand　to　take　Spanish　at　Vocational。　There　was　
something　about　speaking　in　a　foreign　language　that　made　her　
feel　like　she'd　been　around　a　lot。　Every　afternoon　since　school　
had　started　she　had　fun　speaking　the　new　Spanish　words　and　
sentences。　At　first　Bubber　was　stumped；　and　it　was　funny　to　
watch　his　face　while　she　talked　the　foreign　language。　Then　he　
caught　on　in　a　hurry；　and　before　long　he　could　copy　
everything　she　said。　He　remembered　the　words　he　learned；　
too。　Of　course　he　didn't　know　what　all　the　sentences　meant；　


but　she　didn't　say　them　for　the　sense　they　made；　anyway。　After　
a　while　the　kid　learned　so　fast　she　gave　out　of　Spanish　and　just　
gabbled　along　with　made…up　sounds。　But　it　wasn't　long　before　
he　caught　her　out　at　that—nobody　could　put　a　thing　over　on　
old　Bubber　Kelly。　
'I'm　going　to　pretend　like　I'm　walking　into　this　house　for　the　
first　time；'　Mick　said。　'Then　I　can　tell　better　if　all　the　
decorations　look　good　or　not。'　
She　walked　out　on　the　front　porch　and　then　came　back　and　
stood　in　the　hall。　All　day　she　and　Bubber　and　Portia　and　her　
Dad　had　been　fixing　the　hall　and　the　dining…room　for　the　
party。　The　decoration　was　autumn　leaves　and　vines　and　red　
crepe　paper。　On　the　mantelpiece　in　the　dining…room　and　
sticking　up　behind　the　hatrack　there　were　bright　yellow　leaves。　
They　had　trailed　vines　along　the　walls　and　on　the　table　where　
the　punch　bowl　would　be。　The　red　cr￡pe　paper　hung　down　in　
long　fringes　from　the　mantel　and　also　was　looped　around　the　
backs　of　the　chairs。　There　was　plenty　decoration。　It　was　O。K。　
She　rubbed　her　hand　on　her　forehead　and　squinted　her　eyes。　
Bubber　stood　beside　her　and　copied　every　move　she　made。　'I　
sure　do　want　this　party　to　turn　out　all　right。　I　
sure　do。'　
This　would　be　the　first　party　she　had　ever　given。　She　had　
never　even　been　to　more　than　four　or　five。　Last　summer　she　
had　gone　to　a　prom　party。　But　none　of　the　boys　asked　her　to　
prom　or　dance；　she　just　stood　by　the　punch　bowl　until　all　the　
refreshments　were　gone　and　then　went　home。　This　party　was　
not　going　to　be　a　bit　like　that　one。　In　a　few88　

hours　now　the　people　she　had　invited　would　start　coming　and　
the　to…do　would　begin。　
It　was　hard　to　remember　just　how　she　got　the　idea　of　this　
party。　The　notion　came　to　her　soon　after　she　started　at　
Vocational。　High　School　was　swell。　Everything　about　it　was　
different　from　Grammar　School。　She　wouldn't　have　liked　it　so　
much　if　she　had　had　to　take　a　stenographic　course　like　Hazel　
and　Etta　had　done—but　she　got　special　permission　and　took　
mechanical　shop　like　a　boy。　Shop　and　Algebra　and　Spanish　
were　grand。　English　was　mighty　hard。　Her　English　teacher　
was　Miss　Minner。　Everybody　said　Miss　Minner　had　sold　her　


brains　to　a　famous　doctor　for　ten　thousand　dollars；　so　that　
after　she　was　dead　he　could　cut　them　up　and　see　why　she　was　
so　smart。　On　written　lessons　she　cracked　such　questions　as　
'Name　eight　famous　contemporaries　of　Doctor　Johnson；'　and　
'Quote　ten　lines　from　〃The　Vicar　of　Wakefield。〃　'　She　called　
on　people　by　the　alphabet　and　kept　her　grade　book　open　
during　the　lessons。　And　even　if　she　was　brainy　she　was　an　old　
sourpuss。　The　Spanish　teacher　had　traveled　once　in　Europe。　
She　said　that　in　France　the　people　carried　home　loaves　of　
bread　without　having　them　wrapped　up。　They　would　stand　
talking　on　the　streets　and　hit　the　bread　on　a　lamp　post。　And　
there　wasn't　any　water　in　France—only　wine。　
In　nearly　all　ways　Vocational　was　wonderful。　They　walked　
back　and　forth　in　the　hall　between　classes；　and　at　lunch　period　
students　hung　around　the　gym。　Here　was　the　thing　that　soon　
began　to　bother　her。　In　the　halls　the　people　would　walk　up　and　
down　together　and　everybody　seemed　to　belong　to　some　
special　bunch。　Within　a　week　or　two　she　knew　people　in　the　
halls　and　in　classes　to　speak　to　them—but　that　was　all。　She　
wasn't　a　member　of　any　bunch。　In　Grammar　School　she　would　
have　just　gone　up　to　any　crowd　she　wanted　to　belong　with　and　
that　would　have　been　the　end　of　the　matter。　Here　it　was　
different。　
During　the　first　week　she　walked　up　and　down　the　halls　by　
herself　and　thought　about　this。　She　planned　about　being　with　
some　bunch　almost　as　much　as　she　thought　of　music。　Those　
two　ideas　were　in　her　head　all　the　time。　And　finally　she　got　the　
idea　of　the　party。　

89　
She　was　strict　with　the　invitations。　No　Grammar　School　kids　
and　nobody　under　twelve　years　old。　She　just　asked　people　
between　thirteen　and　fifteen。　She　knew　everybody　she　invited　
good　enough　to　speak　to　them　in　the　halls—　and　when　she　
didn't　know　their　names　she　asked　to　find　out。　She　called　up　
those　who　had　a　telephone；　and　the　rest　she　invited　at　school。　
On　the　telephone　she　always　said　the　same　thing。　She　let　
Bubber　stick　in　his　ear　to　listen。　'This　is　Mick　Kelly；'　she　said。　
If　they　didn't　understand　the　name　she　kept　on　until　they　got　it。　
Tm　having　a　prom　party　at　eight　o'clock　Saturday　night　and　
I'm　inviting　you　now。　I　live　at　103　Fourth　Street；　Apartment　


A。'　That　Apartment　A　sounded　swell　on　the　telephone。　Nearly　
everybody　said　they　would　be　delighted。　A　couple　of　tough　
boys　tried　to　be　smarty　and　kept　on　asking　her　name　over　and　
over。　One　of　them　tried　to　act　cute　and　said；　'I　don't　know　you。'　
She　squelched　him　in　a　hurry：　'You　go　eat　grass！'　Outside　of　
that　wise　guy　there　were　ten　boys　and　ten　girls　and　she　knew　
that　they　were　all　coming。　This　was　a　real　party；　and　it　would　
be　better　and　different　from　any　party　she　had　ever　gone　to　or　
heard　about　before。　
Mick　looked　over　the　hall　and　dining…room　one　last　time。　By　
the　hatrack　she　stopped　before　the　picture　of　Old　Dirty…Face。　
This　was　a　photo　of　her　Mama's　grandfather。　He　was　a　major　
way　back　in　the　Civil　War　and　had　been　killed　in　a　battle。　
Some　kid　once　drew　eyeglasses　and　a　beard　on　his　picture；　
and　when　the　pencil　marks　were　erased　it　left　his　face　all　dirty。　
That　was　why　she　called　him　Old　Dirty…Face。　The　picture　was　
in　the　middle　of　a　three…part　frame。　On　both　sides　were　
pictures　of　his　sons。　They　looked　about　Bubber's　age。　They　
had　on　uniforms　and　their　faces　were　surprised。　They　had　
been　killed　in　battle　also。　A　long　time　ago。　
Tm　going　to　take　this　down　for　the　party。　I　think　it　looks　
common。　Don't　you？'　
'I　don't　know；'　Bubber　said。/Are　we　common；　Mick？'　'I'm　not。'　
She　put　the　picture　underneath　the　hatrack。　The　decoration　
was　O。K。　Mister　Singer　would　be　pleased　when　he　came　
home。　The　rooms　seemed　very　empty　and　quiet。　The90　

table　was　set　for　supper。　And　then　after　supper　it　would　be　
time　for　the　party。　She　went　into　the　kitchen　to　see　about　the　
refreshments。　
'You　think　everything　will　be　all　right？'　she　asked　Portia。　
Portia　was　making　biscuits。　The　refreshments　were　on　top　of　
the　stove。　There　were　peanut　butter　and　jelly　sandwiches　and　
chocolate　snaps　and　punch。　The　sandwiches　were　covered　
with　a　damp　dishcloth。　She　peeped　at　them　but　didn't　take　one。　
'I　done　told　you　forty　times　that　everthing　going　to　be　all　
right；'　Portia　said。　'Just　soon　as　I　come　back　from　fixing　supper　
at　home　I　going　to　put　on　that　white　apron　and　serve　the　food　
real　nice。　Then　I　going　to　push　off　from　here　by　nine…thirty。　
This　here　is　Saturday　night　and　Highboy　and　Willie　and　m