Гроздья гнева

           "Itdon’ttroubleyounonetotakeourfourbits.An’when’dwegettobebums?Weain’taskedyafornothin’.Allofusbums,huh?Well,weain’taskin’nonickelsfromyouforthechancetolaydownan’rest."

           Themenontheporchwererigid,motionless,quiet.Expressionwasgonefromtheirfaces;andtheireyes,intheshadowsundertheirhats,movedsecretlyuptothefaceoftheproprietor.

           Pagrowled,"Comeoffit,Tom."

           "Sure,I’llcomeoffit."

           Thecircleofmenwerequiet,sittingonthesteps,leaningonthehighporch.Theireyesglitteredundertheharshlightofthegaslantern.Theirfaceswerehardinthehardlight,andtheywereverystill.Onlytheireyesmovedfromspeakertospeaker,andtheirfaceswereexpressionlessandquiet.Alampbugslammedintothelanternandbrokeitself,andfellintothedarkness.

           Inoneofthetentsachildwailedincomplaint,andawoman’ssoftvoicesootheditandthenbrokeintoalowsong,"Jesuslovesyouinthenight.Sleepgood,sleepgood.Jesuswatchesinthenight.Sleep,oh,sleep,oh."

           Thelanternhissedontheporch.TheownerscratchedintheVofhisopenshirt,whereatangleofwhitechesthairshowed.Hewaswatchfulandringedwithtrouble.Hewatchedthemeninthecircle,watchedforsomeexpression.Andtheymadenomove.

           Tomwassilentforalongtime.Hisdarkeyeslookedslowlyupattheproprietor."Idon’twantamakenotrouble,"hesaid."It’sahardthingtobenamedabum.Iain’tafraid,"hesaidsoftly."