just for the city. You'll hear from the Federal Gov-
ernment about this. There's a fifty dollar fine.' Jees,
I think, fifty dollars. So I come back and wait. One
day I see them coming in-big guys, look like dicks.
I would of known 'em if I met 'em even in Coney
Island in swimming. I was standing right here"-he
ran around in front of the counter into the middle
of the store-"right
here, and my wife was behind
the counter. I wink to her, 'Tell 'em I'm out.' When
they come in my wife says, 'My husband isn't in
right now.' So they told her, same thing they told
me. They say they're from Washington-not
from
New York, mind you, but straight from Washing-
ton. From Washington they got to come for a guy
like me. Imagine."
The boy said, "They didn't
live
in Washington.
Homecoming
ALFRED MORANG
"SO YOU'VE come back," Pa Brown said. His
eyes dropped to the floor. His hands touched the
chair arm. Under the fingers the wood was sweat
damp.
Dan scraped the window frost. He had to do
something. This homecoming was different than he
had planned. Perhaps walkingl>treets,
seeing so
many faces all frowning, eyes hard sending out
thoughts, hating bums, had gotten into him. He had
known that his father was out of work, but Elis-
mont is a small town, and people seem to be able to
live with almost no money in a small town.
Ma Brown smiled. It was a dead smile.
Sister Gladys said, "Let's eat now, Ma." Then
she coughed, rasping hard.
Dan placed one eye close to the frost hole. Out-
side, the street was dim. A man was passing, a man
bent low against the bitterness of winter wind.
"There's not much to eat in the house," Ma
Brown said.
Pa Brown walked to the window, standing high
above Dan. "You'd been just as well off in the city,
Dan. There's nothing here for anyone. I've been
out of work for two years." His voice was thin. It
seemed to quiver in the chill that seeped through
window cracks.
"It's been hard, walking ....
Why, I even bum-
med." Dan paused. He had not meant to say that,
but the words had forced themselves into sounds.
Dan was afraid. He had thought on those streets
about home, about his father. A fellow's father will
help him ... share his bread.
22
They were from the government, but they lived
right here in New York, not in Washington."
"N
0,
they shown my wife the papers. Honest
J
didn't know what to do. Fifty dollars. So I run
around, first to Lieberman, then to Braverman.
They wouldn't do nothing-I never bothered with
them before. So I went to the Progressive Club-
Republican, you know-I figure maybe they can do
something. Sure enough. They put it down to five.
I slapped down five ddlars. And since then I'm a
Republican. That's all."
He laughed, shook his head over it. The boy
guffawed. We all laughed.
I took three rolls and the pint of milk, paid the
sixteen cents. "Good night, everybody." "Good
night."
Mrs. Brown said, "Dan, take this dime and go
down town. There's one store that stays open all
evening. Get ten cents' worth of meal."
Sister Gladys placed her hands on the table top,
looking past them all at the frosty window. "It's
getting cold in here," she said.
Dan laughed. He felt a rising anger. It was like
a slow fire suddenly leaping into life. He had come
home, and this was the way they acted! At least
they could be glad to see him. "Sure I'll go down,
Ma, but let's get something more than meal. How
about some meat?" His mouth watered at the word.
When Dan closed his eyes he could taste the stale
bread crusts from back-of-restaurant cans ... taste
the rankness of his hunger-empty mouth.
Pa Brown turned. His eyes were dead ... liKe a
fish, Dan thought. "You've got to understand, Dan.
When you went away, things were different. I had a
job. vVe did have meat three times a week ... but
you can't buy meat on nothing. That dime is the last
money '''e've got. I earned it." He looked at the
floor, hi~ lips twitching; then he straightened.
"Shovelin:; dung, if you want to know. Yes, doing
what I never thought I'd do." His voice fell.
Sister Gladys began to cry. The lamp sputtered.
Ma Brown said, "There's no more oil. I guess
Dan came at a hard time. We've never been so hard
up in our lives."
Dan scraped on the frost-covered glass. He was
trying to think. Perhaps he had been a fool to come
back ... but those streets and faces ...
wind chill
creeping through the thinness of his clothes! The
anger flamed. His mind seemed bursting. He was
hungry. No one had said, "Won't you have a cup
of hot tea?" when he had opened the door. They
had only looked into his face, dully, almost as
though they were afraid to ask him into the room.
"You don't have to fced me. I'll find something to
APRIL,
1936
