Гроздья гнева

           An’you’llsay,’WhendoIstart?’An’he’lltellyouwheretogo,an’whattime,an’thenhe’llgoon.Maybeheneedstwohunderdmen,sohetalkstofivehunderd,an’theytellotherfolks,an’whenyougettotheplace,they’sathousan’men.Thisherefellasays,’I’mpayin’twentycentsanhour.’An’maybehalfathemenwalkoff.Butthey’sstillfivehunderdthat’ssogoddamnhungrythey’llworkfornothin’butbiscuits.Well,thisherefella’sgotacontracttopickthempeachesor—chopthatcotton.Youseenow?Themorefellashecanget,an’thehungrier,lesshe’sgonnapay.An’he’llgetafellawithkidsifhecan,’cause—hell,IsaysIwasn’tgonnafretya."Thecircleoffaceslookedcoldlyathim.Theeyestestedhiswords.Theraggedmangrewself-conscious."IsaysIwasn’tgonnafretya,an’hereI’ma-doin’it.Yougonnagoon.Youain’tgoin’back."Thesilencehungontheporch.Andthelighthissed,andahaloofmothsswungaroundandaroundthelantern.Theraggedmanwentonnervously,"Lemmetellyawhattodowhenyameetthatfellasayshegotwork.Lemmetellya.Asthimwhathe’sgonnapay.Asthimtowritedownwhathe’sgonnapay.Asthimthat.Itellyoumenyou’regonnagetfooledifyoudon’t."

           Theproprietorleanedforwardinhischair,thebettertoseetheraggeddirtyman.Hescratchedamongthegrayhairsonhischest.