carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第37节

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had　said　were　stories。　He　finally　knew　what　she　was　saying　
but　he　wouldn't　hush。　It　looked　like　nothing　could　stop　that　
screaming。　
'I　hate　everybody！　I　hate　everybody！'　
They　all　just　stood　around。　Mister　Brannon　rubbed　his　nose　
and　looked　down　at　the　floor。　Then　finally　he　went　out　very　
quietly。　Mister　Singer　was　the　only　one　who　seemed　to　know　
what　it　was　all　about。　Maybe　this　was　because　he　didn't　hear　
that　awful　noise。　His　face　was　still　calm；　and　whenever　
Bubber　looked　at　him　he　seemed　to　get　quieter。　Mister　Singer　
was　different　from　any　other　man；　and　at　times　like　this　it　
would　be　better　if　other　people　would　let　him　manage。　He　had　
more　sense　and　he　knew　things　that　ordinary　people　couldn't　
know。　He　just　looked　at　Bubber；　and　after　a　while　the　kid　
quieted　down　enough　so　that　their　Dad　could　get　him　to　bed。　
In　the　bed　he　lay　on　his　face　and　cried。　He　cried　with　long；　big　
sobs　that　made　him　tremble　all　over。　He　cried　for　an　hour　and　
nobody　in　the　three　rooms　could　sleep。　Bill　moved　to　the　
living…room　sofa　and　Mick　got　into　bed　with　Bubber。　He　
wouldn't　let　her　touch　him　or　snug　up　to　him。　Then　after　
another　hour　of　crying　and　hiccoughing　he　went　to　sleep。　
She　was　awake　a　long　time。　In　the　dark　she　put　her　arms　
around　him　and　held　him　very　close。　She　touched　him　all　over　
and　kissed　him　everywhere。　He　was　so　soft　and　little　and　there　
was　this　salty；　boy　smell　about　him。　The　love　she　felt　was　so　
hard　that　she　had　to　squeeze　him　to　her　until　her　arms　were　
tired。　In　her　mind　she　thought　about　Bubber　and　music　
together。　It　was　like　she　could　never　do　anything　good　enough　
for　him。　She　would　never　hit　him　or　even　tease　him　again。　She　
slept　all　night　with　her　arms　around　his　head。　Then　in　the　
morning　when　she　woke　up　he　was　gone。　But　after　that　night　
there　was　not　much　of　a　chance　for　


her　to　tease　him　any　more—her　or　anybody　else。　After　he　shot　
Baby　the　kid　was　not　ever　like　little　Bubber　again。　He　always　
kept　his　mouth　shut　and　he　didn't　fool　around　with　anybody。　
Most　of　the　time　he　just　sat　in　the　back　yard　or　in　the　coal　
house　by　himself。　It　got　closer　and　closer　toward　Christmas　
time。　She　really　wanted　a　piano；　but　naturally　she　didn't　say　
anything　about　that。　She　told　everybody　she　wanted　a　Micky　
Mouse　watch。　When　they　asked　Bubber　what　he　wanted　from　
Santa　Claus　he　said　he　didn't　want　anything。　He　hid　his　
marbles　and　jack…knife　and　wouldn't　let　anyone　touch　his　story　
books。　
After　that　night　nobody　called　him　Bubber　any　more。　The　big　
kids　in　the　neighborhood　started　calling　him　Baby…Killer　
Kelly。　But　he　didn't　speak　much　to　any　person　and　nothing　
seemed　to　bother　him。　The　family　called　him　by　his　real　name　
—George。　At　first　Mick　couldn't　stop　calling　him　Bubber　and　
she　didn't　want　to　stop。　But　it　was　funny　how　after　about　a　
week　she　just　naturally　called　him　George　like　the　others　did。　
But　he　was　a　different　kid—　George—going　around　by　
himself　always　like　a　person　much　older　and　with　nobody；　not　
even　her；　knowing　what　was　really　in　his　mind。　
She　slept　with　him　on　Christmas　Eve　night。　He　lay　in　the　dark　
without　talking。　'Quit　acting　so　peculiar；'　she　said　to　him。　'Less　
talk　about　the　wise　men　and　the　way　the　children　in　Holland　
put　out　their　wooden　shoes　instead　of　hanging　up　their　
stockings。'　
George　wouldn't　answer。　He　went　to　sleep。　
She　got　up　at　four　o'clock　in　the　morning　and　waked　
everybody　in　the　family。　Their　Dad　built　a　fire　in　the　front　
room　and　then　let　them　go　into　the　Christmas　tree　and　see　
what　they　got。　George　had　an　Indian　suit　and　Ralph　a　rubber　
doll。　The　rest　of　the　family　just　got　clothes。　She　looked　all　
through　her　stocking　for　the　Mickey　Mouse　watch　but　it　
wasn't　there。　Her　presents　were　a　pair　of　brown　Oxford　shoes　
and　a　box　of　cherry　candy。　While　it　was　still　dark　she　and　
George　went　out　on　the　sidewalk　and　cracked　nigger…toes　and　
shot　firecrackers　and　ate　up　the　whole　two…layer　box　of　cherry　
candy。　And　by　the　time　it　was　daylight　they　were　sick　to　the　
stomach　and　tired　out。　She　lay　down　on　die　sofa。　She　shut　her　
eyes　and　went　into　the　inside　room。154　


EIGHT　o'clock　Doctor　Copeland　sat　at　his　desk；　studying　a　
sheaf　of　papers　by　the　bleak　morning　light　from　the　window。　
Beside　him　the　tree；　a　thick…fringed　cedar；　rose　up　dark　and　
green　to　the　ceiling。　Since　the　first　year　he　began　to　practice　
he　had　given　an　annual　party　on　Christmas　Day；　and　now　all　
was　in　readiness。　Rows　of　benches　and　chairs　lined　the　walls　
of　the　front　rooms。　Throughout　the　house　there　was　the　sweet　
spiced　odor　of　newly　baked　cake　and　steaming　coffee。　In　the　
office　with　him　Portia　sat　on　a　bench　against　the　wall；　her　
hands　cupped　beneath　her　chin；　her　body　bent　almost　double。　
'Father；　you　been　scrouched　over　the　desk　since　five　o'clock。　
You　got　no　business　to　be　up。　You　ought　to　stayed　in　bed　until　
time　for　the　to…do。'　
Doctor　Copeland　moistened　his　thick　lips　with　his　tongue。　So　
much　was　on　his　mind　that　he　had　no　attention　to　give　to　
Portia。　Her　presence　fretted　him。　
At　last　he　turned　to　her　irritably。　'Why　do　you　sit　there　
moping？'　
'I　just　got　worries；'　she　said。　'For　one　thing；　I　worried　about　our　
Willie。'　
'William？'　
'You　see　he　been　writing　me　regular　ever　Sunday。　The　letter　
will　get　here　on　Monday　or　Tuesday。　But　last　week　he　didn't　
write。　Course　I　not　really　anxious。　Willie—he　always　so　good…
natured　and　sweet　I　know　he　going　to　be　all　right。　He　been　
transferred　from　the　prison　to　the　chain　gang　and　they　going　to　
work　up　somewhere　north　of　Atlanta。　Two　weeks　ago　he　
wrote　this　here　letter　to　say　they　going　to　attend　a　church　
service　today；　and　he　done　asked　me　to　send　him　his　suit　of　
clothes　and　his　red　tie。'　
。Is　that　all　William　said？'　
'He　written　that　this　Mr。　B。　F。　Mason　is　at　the　prison；　too。　And　
that　he　run　into　Buster　Johnson—he　a　boy　Willie　used　to　
know。　And　also　he　done　asked　me　to　please　send　him　his　harp　
because　he　can't　be　happy　without　he　got　his　harp　to　play　on。　I　
done　sent　everthing。　Also　a　checker　set　and　a　white…iced　cake。　
But　I　sure　hope　I　hears　from　him　in　the　next　few　days。'　

155　


Doctor　Copeland's　eyes　glowed　with　fever　and　he　could　not　
rest　his　hands。　'Daughter；　we　shall　have　to　discuss　this　later。　It　
is　getting　late　and　I　must　finish　here。　You　go　back　to　the　
kitchen　and　see　that　all　is　ready。'　
Portia　stood　up　and　tried　to　make　her　face　bright　and　happy。　
'What　you　done　decided　about　that　five…dollar　prize？'　
'As　yet　I　have　been　unable　to　decide　just　what　is　the　wisest　
course；'　he　said　carefully。　
A　certain　friend　of　his；　a　Negro　pharmacist；　gave　an　award　of　
five　dollars　every　year　to　the　high…school　student　who　wrote　
the　best　essay　on　a　given　subject。　The　pharmacist　always　made　
Doctor　Copeland　sole　judge　of　the　papers　and　the　winner　was　
announced　at　the　Christmas　party。　The　subject　of　the　
composition　this　year　was　'My　Ambition：　How　I　Can　Better　
the　Position　of　the　Negro　Race　in　Society。'　There　was　only　one　
essay　worthy　of　real　consideration。　Yet　this　paper　was　so　
childish　and　ill…advised　that　it　would　hardly　be　prudent　to　
confer　upon　it　the　award。　Doctor　Copeland　put　on　his　glasses　
and　re…read　the　essay　with　deep　concentration。　
This　is　my　ambition。　First　I　wish　to　attend　Tuskegee　College　
but　I　do　not　wish　to　be　a　man　like　Booker　Washington　or　
Doctor　Carver。　Then　when　I　deem　that　my　education　is　
complete　I　wish　to　start　off　being　a　fine　lawyer　like　the　one　
who　defended　the　Scottsboro　Boys。　I　would　only　take　cases　
for　colored　people　against　white　people。　Every　day　our　people　
are　made　in　every　way　and　by　every　means　to　feel　that　they　
are　inferior。　This　is　not　so。　We　are　a　Rising　Race。　And　we　
cannot　sweat　beneath　the　white　man's　burdens　for　long。　We　
cannot　always　sow　where　others　reap。　
I　want　to　be　like　Moses；　who　led　the　children　of　Israel　from　
the　land　of　the　oppressors。　I　want　to　get　up　a　Secret　
Organization　of　Colored　Leaders　and　Scholars。　All　colored　
people　will　organize　under　the　direction　of　these　picked　
leaders　and　prepare　for　revolt。　Other　nations　in　the　world　who　
are　interested　in　the　plight　of　our　race　and　who　would　like　to　
see　the　United　States　divided　would　come　to　our　aid。　All　
colored　people　will　organize　and　there　will　be　a　revolution；　
and　at　the　close　colored156　

people　will　take　up　all　the　territory　east　of　the　Mississippi　and　


south　of　the　Potomac。　I　shall　set　up　a　mighty　country　under　the　
control　of　the　Organization　of　Colored　Leaders　and　Scholars。　
No　white　person　will　be　allowed　a　passport—and　if　they　get　
into　the　country　they　will　have　no　legal　rights。　
I　hate　the　whole　white　race　and　will　work　always　so　that　the　
colored　race　can　achieve　revenge　for　all　their　sufferings。　That　
is　my　ambition。　
Doctor　Copeland　felt　the　fever　warm　in　his　veins。　The　ticking　
of　the　clock　on　his　desk　was　loud　and　the　sound　jarred　his　
nerves。　How　could　he　give　the　award　to　a　boy　with　such　wild　
notions　as　this？　What　should　he　decide？　
The　other　essays　were　without　any　firm　content　at　all。　The　
young　people　would　not　think。　They　wrote　only　about　their　
ambitions　and　omitted　the　last　part　of　the　tid