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your own blood sister；' Lucile said。
Biff raised his head。 'Why don't you marry again？ Some nice
young man who's never had a wife before； who would take
care of you and Baby？ If you'd just forget about Leroy you
would make a good man a fine wife。'
Lucile was slow to answer。 Then finally she said： *You know
how we always been—we nearly all the time understand each
other pretty well without any kind of throbs either way。 Well；
that's the closest I ever want to be to any man again。'
111
1 feel the same way；' Biff said。
Half an hour later there was a knock on the door。 The car for
the funeral was parked before the house。 Biff and Lucile got
up slowly。 The three of them； with Baby in her white silk
dress a little ahead； walked in solemn quietness outside。
Biff kept the restaurant closed during the next day。 Then in
the early evening he removed the faded wreath of lilies from
the front door and opened the place for business again。 Old
customers came in with sad faces and talked with him a few
minutes by the cash register before giving their orders。 The
usual crowd was present—Singer； Blount； various men who
worked in stores along the block and in the mills down on the
river。 After supper Mick Kelly showed up with her little
brother and put a nickel into the slot machine。 When she lost
the first coin she banged on the machine with her fists and
kept opening the receiver to be sure that nothing had come
down。 Then she put in another nickel and almost won the
jackpot。 Coins came clattering out and rolled along the floor。
The kid and her little brother both kept looking around pretty
sharp as they picked them up； so that no customer would put
his foot on one before they could get to it The mute was at the
table in the middle of the room with his dinner before him。
Across from him Jake Blount sat drinking beer； dressed in his
Sunday clothes； and talking。 Everything was the same as it had
always been before。 After a while the air became gray with
cigarette smoke and the noise increased。 Biff was alert； and no
sound or movement escaped him。
'I go around；' Blount said。 He leaned earnestly across the table
and kept his eyes on the mute's face。 'I go all around and try to
tell them。 And they laugh。 I can't make them understand
anything。 No matter what I say I can't seem to make them see；
the truth。'
Singer nodded and wiped his mouth with his napkin。 His
dinner had got cold because he couldn't look down to eat； but
he was so polite that he let Blount go on talking。 The words of
the two children at the slot machine were high and clear
against the coarser voices of the men。 Mick was putting her
nickels back into the slot。 Often she looked around at the
middle table； but the mute had his back turned to her and did
not see。112
'Mister Singer's got fried chicken for his supper and he hasn't
eaten one piece yet；' the little boy said。
Mick pulled down the lever of the machine very slowly。 'Mind
your own business。'
'You're always going up to his room or some place where you
know he'll be。'
'I told you to hush； Bubber Kelly。'
'You do。'
Mick shook him until his teeth rattled and turned him around
toward the door。 'You go on home to bed。 I already told you I
get a bellyful of you and Ralph in the daytime； and I don't
want you hanging around me at night when I'm supposed to be
free。'
Bubber held out bis grimy little hand。 Well； give me a nickel；
then。' When he had put the money in his shirt pocket he left
for home。
Biff straightened his coat and smoothed back his hair。 His tie
was solid black； and on the sleeve of his gray coat there was
the mourning band that he had sewn there。 He wanted to go up
to the slot machine and talk with Mick； but something would
not let him。 He sucked in his breath sharply and drank a glass
of water。 A dance orchestra came in on the radio； but he did
not want to listen。 All the tunes in the last ten years were so
alike he couldn't tell one from the other。 Since 1928 he had
not enjoyed music。 Yet when he was young he used to play
the mandolin； and he knew the words and the melody of every
current song。
He laid his finger on the side of his nose and cocked his head
to one side。 Mick had grown so much in the past year that
soon she would be taller than he was。 She was dressed in the
red sweater and blue pleated skirt she had worn every day
since school started。 Now the pleats had come out and the hem
dragged loose around her sharp； jutting knees。 She was at the
age when she looked as much like an overgrown boy as a girl。
And on that subject why was it that the smartest people mostly
missed that point？ By nature all people are of both sexes。 So
that marriage and the bed is not all by any means。 The proof？
Real youth and old age。 Because often old men's voices grow
high and reedy and they take on a mincing walk。 And old
women sometimes grow fat and their voices get rough and
deep and they grow dark little mustaches。 And he even proved
113 it himself—the part of him that sometimes almost wished
he was a mother and that Mick and Baby were his kids。
Abruptly Biff turned from the cash register。
The newspapers were in a mess。 For two weeks he hadn't filed
a single one。 He lifted a stack of them from under the counter。
With a practiced eye he glanced from the masthead to the
bottom of the sheet。 Tomorrow he would look over the stacks
of them in the back room and see about changing the system
of files。 Build shelves and use those solid boxes canned goods
were shipped in for drawers。 Chronologically from October
27；1918； on up to the present date。 With folders and top
markings outlining historical events。 Three sets of outlines—
one international beginning with the Armistice and leading
through the Munich aftermath； the second national； the third
all the local dope from the time Mayor Lester shot his wife at
the country club up to the Hudson Mill fire。 Everything for the
past twenty years docketed and outlined and complete。 Biff
beamed quietly behind his hand as he rubbed his jaw。 And yet
Alice had wanted him to haul out the papers so she could turn
the room into a ladies' toilet。 That was just what she had
nagged him to do； but for once he had battered her down。 For
that one time。
With peaceful absorption Biff settled down to the details of
the newspaper before him。 He read steadily and with
concentration； but from habit some secondary part of him was
alert to everything around him。 Jake Blount was still talking；
and often he would hit his fist on the table。 The mute sipped
beer。 Mick walked restlessly around the radio and stared at the
customers。 Biff read every word in the first paper and made a
few notes on the
margins。
Then suddenly he looked up with a surprised expression。 His
mouth had been open for a yawn and he snapped it shut。 The
radio swung into an old song that dated back to the time when
he and Alice were engaged。 'Just a Baby's Prayer at Twilight。'
They had taken the streetcar one Sunday to Old Sardis Lake
and had rented a rowboat。 At sunset he played on the
mandolin while she sang。 She had on a sailor hat； and when he
put his arm around her waist
she—Alice
A dragnet for lost feelings。 Biff folded the newspapers114
and put them back under the counter。 He stood on one foot
and then the other。 Finally he called across the room to Mick。
'You're not listening； are you？'
Mick turned off the radio。 'No。 Nothing on tonight。' All of that
he would keep out of his mind； and concentrate on something
else。 He leaned over the counter and watched one customer
after another。 Then at last his attention rested on the mute at
the middle table。 He saw Mick edge gradually up to him and
at his invitation sit down。 Singer pointed to something on the
menu and the waitress brought a Coca…Cola for her。 Nobody
but a freak like a deaf…mute； cut off from other people； would
ask a right young girl to sit down to the table where he was
drinking with another man。 Blount and Mick both kept their
eyes on Singer。 They talked； and the mute's expression
changed as he watched them。 It was a funny thing。 The reason
—was it in them or in him？ He sat very still with his hands in
his pockets； and because he did not speak it made him seem
superior。 What did that fellow think and realize？ What did he
know？
Twice during the evening Biff started to go over to the middle
table； but each time he checked himself。 After they were gone
he still wondered what it was about this mute —and in the
early dawn when he lay in bed he turned over questions and
solutions in his mind without satisfaction。 The puzzle had
taken root in him。 It worried him in the back of his mind and
left him uneasy。 There was something wrong。
＇。ANY times Doctor Copeland talked to Mr。 Singer。 Truly he
was not like other white men。 He was a wise man； and he
understood the strong； true purpose in a way that other white
men could not。 He listened； and in his face there was
something gentle and Jewish； the knowledge of one who
belongs to a race that is oppressed。 O