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and because he didn't earn much money he felt like he was cut
off from the family。 And in his lonesomeness he wanted to be
close to one of his kids —and they were all so busy that they
didn't know it。 He felt like he wasn't much real use to
anybody。
She understood this while they were looking at each other。 It
gave her a queer feeling。 Her Dad picked up a watch spring
and cleaned it with a brush dipped in gasoline。
'I know you're in a hurry。 I just hollered to say hello。' *No； I'm
not in any rush；' she said。 'Honest。' That night she sat down in
a chair by his bench and they talked awhile。 He talked about
accounts and expenses and86
how things would have been if he had just managed in a
different way。 He drank beer； and once the tears came to his
eyes and he snuffled his nose against his shirt…sleeve。 She
stayed with him a good while that night。 Even if she was in an
awful hurry。 Yet for some reason she couldn't tell him about
the things in her mind—about the hot； dark nights。
These nights were secret； and of the whole summer they were
the most important time。 In the dark she walked by herself and
it was like she was the only person in the town。 Almost every
street came to be as plain to her in the nighttime as her own
home block。 Some kids were afraid to walk through strange
places in the dark； but she wasn't。 Girls were scared a man
would come out from somewhere and put his teapot in them
like they was married。 Most girls were nuts。 If a person the
size of Joe Louis or Mountain Man Dean would jump out at
her and want to fight she would run。 But if it was somebody
within twenty pounds her weight she would give him a good
sock and go right on。
The nights were wonderful； and she didn't have time to think
about such things as being scared。 Whenever she was in the
dark she thought about music。 While she walked along the
streets she would sing to herself。 And she felt like the whole
town listened without knowing it was Mick Kelly。
She learned a lot about music during these free nights in the
summer…time。 When she walked out in the rich parts of town
every house had a radio。 All the windows were open and she
could hear the music very marvelous。 After a while she knew
which houses tuned in for the programs she wanted to hear。
There was one special house that got all the good orchestras。
And at night she would go to this house and sneak into the
dark yard to listen。 There was beautiful shrubbery around this
house； and she would sit under a bush near the window。 And
after it was all over she would stand in the dark yard with her
hands in her pockets and think for a long time。 That was the
realest part of all the summer—her listening to this music on
the radio and studying about it
'Cerra fa puerta； senor' Mick said。
87
Bubber was sharp as a briar。 'Haga me usted el favor；
senorita；' he answered as a comeback。
It was grand to take Spanish at Vocational。 There was
something about speaking in a foreign language that made her
feel like she'd been around a lot。 Every afternoon since school
had started she had fun speaking the new Spanish words and
sentences。 At first Bubber was stumped； and it was funny to
watch his face while she talked the foreign language。 Then he
caught on in a hurry； and before long he could copy
everything she said。 He remembered the words he learned；
too。 Of course he didn't know what all the sentences meant；
but she didn't say them for the sense they made； anyway。 After
a while the kid learned so fast she gave out of Spanish and just
gabbled along with made…up sounds。 But it wasn't long before
he caught her out at that—nobody could put a thing over on
old Bubber Kelly。
'I'm going to pretend like I'm walking into this house for the
first time；' Mick said。 'Then I can tell better if all the
decorations look good or not。'
She walked out on the front porch and then came back and
stood in the hall。 All day she and Bubber and Portia and her
Dad had been fixing the hall and the dining…room for the
party。 The decoration was autumn leaves and vines and red
crepe paper。 On the mantelpiece in the dining…room and
sticking up behind the hatrack there were bright yellow leaves。
They had trailed vines along the walls and on the table where
the punch bowl would be。 The red cr￡pe paper hung down in
long fringes from the mantel and also was looped around the
backs of the chairs。 There was plenty decoration。 It was O。K。
She rubbed her hand on her forehead and squinted her eyes。
Bubber stood beside her and copied every move she made。 'I
sure do want this party to turn out all right。 I
sure do。'
This would be the first party she had ever given。 She had
never even been to more than four or five。 Last summer she
had gone to a prom party。 But none of the boys asked her to
prom or dance； she just stood by the punch bowl until all the
refreshments were gone and then went home。 This party was
not going to be a bit like that one。 In a few88
hours now the people she had invited would start coming and
the to…do would begin。
It was hard to remember just how she got the idea of this
party。 The notion came to her soon after she started at
Vocational。 High School was swell。 Everything about it was
different from Grammar School。 She wouldn't have liked it so
much if she had had to take a stenographic course like Hazel
and Etta had done—but she got special permission and took
mechanical shop like a boy。 Shop and Algebra and Spanish
were grand。 English was mighty hard。 Her English teacher
was Miss Minner。 Everybody said Miss Minner had sold her
brains to a famous doctor for ten thousand dollars； so that
after she was dead he could cut them up and see why she was
so smart。 On written lessons she cracked such questions as
'Name eight famous contemporaries of Doctor Johnson；' and
'Quote ten lines from 〃The Vicar of Wakefield。〃 ' She called
on people by the alphabet and kept her grade book open
during the lessons。 And even if she was brainy she was an old
sourpuss。 The Spanish teacher had traveled once in Europe。
She said that in France the people carried home loaves of
bread without having them wrapped up。 They would stand
talking on the streets and hit the bread on a lamp post。 And
there wasn't any water in France—only wine。
In nearly all ways Vocational was wonderful。 They walked
back and forth in the hall between classes； and at lunch period
students hung around the gym。 Here was the thing that soon
began to bother her。 In the halls the people would walk up and
down together and everybody seemed to belong to some
special bunch。 Within a week or two she knew people in the
halls and in classes to speak to them—but that was all。 She
wasn't a member of any bunch。 In Grammar School she would
have just gone up to any crowd she wanted to belong with and
that would have been the end of the matter。 Here it was
different。
During the first week she walked up and down the halls by
herself and thought about this。 She planned about being with
some bunch almost as much as she thought of music。 Those
two ideas were in her head all the time。 And finally she got the
idea of the party。
89
She was strict with the invitations。 No Grammar School kids
and nobody under twelve years old。 She just asked people
between thirteen and fifteen。 She knew everybody she invited
good enough to speak to them in the halls— and when she
didn't know their names she asked to find out。 She called up
those who had a telephone； and the rest she invited at school。
On the telephone she always said the same thing。 She let
Bubber stick in his ear to listen。 'This is Mick Kelly；' she said。
If they didn't understand the name she kept on until they got it。
Tm having a prom party at eight o'clock Saturday night and
I'm inviting you now。 I live at 103 Fourth Street； Apartment
A。' That Apartment A sounded swell on the telephone。 Nearly
everybody said they would be delighted。 A couple of tough
boys tried to be smarty and kept on asking her name over and
over。 One of them tried to act cute and said； 'I don't know you。'
She squelched him in a hurry： 'You go eat grass！' Outside of
that wise guy there were ten boys and ten girls and she knew
that they were all coming。 This was a real party； and it would
be better and different from any party she had ever gone to or
heard about before。
Mick looked over the hall and dining…room one last time。 By
the hatrack she stopped before the picture of Old Dirty…Face。
This was a photo of her Mama's grandfather。 He was a major
way back in the Civil War and had been killed in a battle。
Some kid once drew eyeglasses and a beard on his picture；
and when the pencil marks were erased it left his face all dirty。
That was why she called him Old Dirty…Face。 The picture was
in the middle of a three…part frame。 On both sides were
pictures of his sons。 They looked about Bubber's age。 They
had on uniforms and their faces were surprised。 They had
been killed in battle also。 A long time ago。
Tm going to take this down for the party。 I think it looks