Mick put ture ba t s    s drao    reason—and in    it didnt give he

        same feeling t music did. Nothing was really as good as music.

        Mielt doed top of tbox. Inside rung rings, a guitar string and a banj. tly mended ig plaster and trings at ther side.

        Mick    before. Some time ago stle play mandolin out of a cigar box    put to    sed all over everys and added a little to t seemed to    use her head.

        Bill, t look like any real violin I ever saw. ill reading—Yeah—?’

        It just dont l just dont------’

        So tu day by scre since surned out s    to look at it. Sloer anottle hollow-sounding ping.

        a boo be made out of just iently.

        N on a limber stick would do?’

        Bill rubbed    against easwer.

        Anger made beads of s e out on her forehead.

        s not even a bad violin. Its onlya cross bete them------’

        Bill turned around.

        Its all turned out     do. Its no good. tipe do carrying on about t old broken ukulele youve been fooling old you at first it o ts o sit do to buy them. I

        t anybody . But I figured it     yon if you found out for yourself.’

        Sometimes sed Bill more the world.

        entirely from ed to slam tomp on it, but instead s it back rougo tbox. tears    Bill.

        As so get to to her Mama.

        s tter    o now?’

        Mick tried to jerk loose, but o her arm.

        Sullenly sears from     ime to ask ions.

        Mr. Ja    ers to dinner and t be but just enougoday youre to eat in tch Bubber.’

        t*s h me, Mick said.

        to take off break of talking. S by not keeping up    insurail time     off . tter of diser a opped.

        Mick leaned on ters of tairs. tarted    seemed to    back over t mont s t in    s making    o believe a little. Sired out. Bill    ever a o t person in to folloer him

        every place — out fiso t o t macaurant—every to let    anyhey could never be good buddies again.

        In ttes and Sunday dinner. Mick took a deep breatoell good and she was hungry.

        Sias voice as salked to Bubber, and it was like selling ory.

        And t is t more fortu cirls, Portia said as she door. hy? asked Mick.

        Portia and Bubber ting at tcable eating tias green print dress    ig.

        You all time poun on tail of    to kno it, Portia said. S up and stood over t stove, putting dinner on Micks plate.

        Bubber aalking about my Grandpapas    on telling Bubber een and a s four of tton, some years so peas to keep t ric for peacime from ty to ty-five laying able patcrees and plenty figs and plums and berries. trut many we farms heir land good as my Grandpapa.’

        Mick put able and leaned over e.

        Portia alk about t about o ell it you    colored farm e self.

        tarted    otle room. And t on until ton. In they haves a real an and a

        gramopure of my Grandpapa taken in    aables and no matter er turns tty near alo eat.’

        go live hen? Mick asked.

        Portia stopped peeling atoes and apped on table in time to ;t is. See—eaes is    see—I lived tle girl. But I    never done any    there since.

        Any time, ts in bad trouble us    always go back.’

        Didnt your Father build on a room?’

        Portia stopped cher?’

        "Sure, said Mick.

        You known.’

        Mick ia say t before, but s it ale. or？

        ?t is. Before tune my Mama married my Fat real kindness. My Grandpa is Mister Kind    my Fat from .’

        Mean?asked Mick.

        "No,    a mean man, Portia said slo just t sometter. My Fat like oto explain. My Fatime studying by ime ago aken up all tions about    to be. tle t nigried to teach us children lessons.’

        "t dont sound so bad to me, said Mick.

        listen    of time . But ts    .    madder t he was a sure enough crazy man. he done

        en years old at time. Our Mama taken us co Grandpapas farm and us    time ed us to e back. But even ay all by hisself.’

        Mick    to tove and filled e a sed time.

        Portias voice op her now.

        I doesnt see my Fat I done a lot of t    e man in to God and turned ion.

        All roubles e do to t.’

        Portia ed.    to talking about God—or illie,    excited.

        No a big ser. I belongs to terian C alking in tongues. Us do sanctified ever ogets tell you trut ttle singing and a little preaick. You ougo take your little broto ty big enougo sit in g lately it seem to me like you already got ooe in t.’

        Nuts, Mick said.

        Now highboy he were holiness boy before us were married.

        o get t ever Sunday and s and sanctify    after us    o join    kind of o keep    sometime I t well.’

        I dont believe in God any more ta Oaus, Mick said.

        You    a mis ime seem to me you favor my Fathan any person I ever knowed.’

        Me? You say / favor him?’

        I dont mean in t the shape and color of your souls.’

        Bubber sat looking from oo tied around ill y spoon.

        all does God eat? he asked.

        Mick got up from table and stood in to leave. Sometimes it o devil Portia. Sarted on tune and said t was all she knew.

        Folks like you and my Fat attend t never    all. Noake me oo. And my    seem to me just from looking at oo. I do t time I seen him.’

        your oher of yours could ever be.’

        But you    never loved God nor even nair person. You oug just the same I knows you.

        ternoon you going to roam all over t never being satisfied. You going to traipse all arpund like you o find somet. You going to ement Yoing to beat o kill you because you dont love and dont o bust loose and be ruined. ont nothen.’

        , Portia? Bubber asked.    kind of t?’

        Mick laugamped out of the room.
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