NO
WINE IN HIS
CART
Meridel Le Sueur
SrELLA JIGGLED THE PHONE
1
the connections in these rural telephones
were always difficult. Why, why weren't they in town when some–
thing important was happening. And no papers until tomorrow morning.
Such a hot day too ... "Hello .. . Hello ... I want to get Minneapolis ...
yes,
yes the stock exchange. What IS the matter-Arnold Gregory-the
stock exchange."
Stella looked at Henrietta, the housekeeper, who stood in the door.
The two women looked at each other while Stella listened at the phone.
Henrietta seemed to be listening too. "I was wondering how the strike
is going," Henrietta said. The two women looked at each other. "That's
what I am trying to do, get my husband," Stella said. Henrietta looked
at her. She thinks I don't know anything about strikes, Stella thought,
my
father was in many strikes. Both women looked out the window
down the hill to the lake. It was such a hot day, the hills stood still in
the heavy tawny sunlight. The corn was ripening in the garden, the long
silky leaves shining quite still like green swards in the sun. Stella watched
the tiny fishermen on the lake and listened to the small sounds in the black
space of the phone. From where she was sitting at the phone she could
look straight from their glassed room down both sides of the hill, on one
side sat the fishermen, on the other side, beyond the tennis court she could
see the Sicilian wine cart. Arnold's father had brought back from Italy.
All
morning she had looked, from time to time, at the fishermen sitting
quite still on the glassy lake and not once had they pulled up a fish. They
looked burned to a char with their black poles out over the shimmering
water. She watched, but no, they never once pulled in a fish. Weren't
there any fish in that lake but surely Arnold would have fish in his lake ...
it wasn't possible. "Henrietta, I wonder if there arc any fish in the lake?"
she said, holding down the receiver; "I'll have to call again, why is there
no answer?" The silence was thick with heat. It seemed as if something
were about to spring out of it right behind your shoulders, as
if
someone
were spying in the still heat.
"I hope they catch something," Henrietta said. Stella looked at the
fishermen. "I know that they are pretty hard up, they're probably fishing
for their supper."
Stella's heart gave a start. For some reason it had not occurred to
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