SEVENTEEN SYLLABLES
1127
What she enjoyed most was racing him to see which could finish
picking a double row first. He, who could work faster, would tease
her by slowing down until she thought she would surely pass him this
time, then speeding up furiously to leave her several sprawling vines
behind. Once he had made her screech hideously by crossing over,
while her back was turned, to place atop the tomatoes in her green–
stained bucket a truly monstrous, pale green worm (it had looked
more like an infant snake). And it was when they had finished a
contest this morning, after she had pantingly pointed a green finger
at the immature tomatoes evident in the lugs at the end of his row
and he had returned the accusation (with justice), that he had start–
lingly brought up the matter of their possibly meeting outside the
range of both their parents' dubious eyes.
"What for?" she had asked.
"I've got a secret I want to tell you," he said.
"Tell me now," she demanded.
"It won't be ready till tonight," he said.
She laughed. "Tell me tomorrow then."
"It'll be gone tomorrow," he threatened.
"Well, for seven hakes, what is it?" she had asked, more than
twice, and when he had suggested that the packing shed would be
an appropriate place to find out, she had cautiously answered maybe.
She had not been certain she was going to keep the appointment
until the arrival of her mother's sister and her husband. Their coming
seemed a sort of signal of permission, of grace, and she had definitely
made up her mind to lie and leave as she was bowing them welcome.
So, as soon as everyone appeared settled back for the evening,
she announced loudly that she was going to the privy outside, "I'm
going to the
benjo!"
and slipped out the door. And now that she
was actually on her way, her heart pumped in such an undisciplined
way that she could hear it with her ears. It's because I'm running,
she told herself, slowing to a walk. The shed was up ahead, one more
patch away, in the middle of the fields. Its bulk, looming in the dim–
ness, took on a sinisterness that was funny when Rosie reminded
herself that it was only a wooden frame with a canvas roof and three
canvas walls that made a slapping noise on breezy days.
Jesus was sitting on the narrow plank that was the sorting plat–
form and she went around to the other side and jumped backwards
