A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines Page A

much time he has left?”
    â€œThat’s entirely up to the governor, not me,” Guidry said. “But I wouldn’t plan on a diploma. Okay?”
    The fat man and Louis Rougon seemed impressed by the sheriff’s questions and answers to me. Louis Rougon, who had light-blue eyes, stared at me to make me look back at him, but I refused to pay him that courtesy. The fat man, drinking, rattled the ice cubes in his glass. Henri Pichot appeared to wish all this was over with.
    â€œAnything else?” Guidry asked me.
    â€œWhen can I start coming up there?”
    â€œNot for a couple of weeks,” Guidry said. “Let him get used to it. Report to Chief Deputy Clark if I’m not around. Don’t bring anything up there you don’t want taken away from you—knife, razor blade, anything made of glass. Not that I expect him to do anything—but you can never be sure. Anything else?”
    â€œNo, sir, nothing else.”
    Guidry nodded. “Good luck. But I think it’s all just a waste of time.”
    â€œThank you, sir.”
    I waited until they had left the kitchen, then I went out to my car and drove away.

7
    TWO THINGS HAPPENED at the school during the weeks before I visited Jefferson in jail. The superintendent of schools made his annual visit, and we got our first load of wood for winter.
    We heard on Monday by Farrell Jarreau, who had gotten the news from Henri Pichot, that the superintendent was going to visit us sometime during the week, but we didn’t know what day or time. I told my students to take baths each morning and wear their best clothes to school. After the Pledge of Allegiance in the yard and the recitation of Bible verses inside the church, I would send a student back outside to look out for the superintendent. If the student saw a car, any car, turn off the highway down into the quarter, he or she was supposed to run inside and tell me.
    The superintendent didn’t show up until Thursday. By then we had had many false alarms. The minister of the church, who didn’t live in the quarter, had made a couple of visits to church members. A doctor had come once, a midwife had visited a young woman twice, an insurance man had shown up, a bill collector from a furniture store had appeared, Henri Pichot had driven through the quarter at least once each day, and family and friends of people in the quarter had also visited. On Thursday, just before two o’clock, the boy I had watching for cars ran into the church.
    â€œAnother one, Mr. Wiggins, another one.”
    â€œAll right,” I said to the class. “Keep those books opened and look sharp.”
    I passed my fingers over my shirt collar and checked the knot in my necktie. I felt my jacket to be sure both flaps were outside the pockets. I had three suits—navy blue, gray, and brown. I had on the blue one today. In the yard, I passed the tips of my shoes over the backs of my pant legs. Now I was ready to receive our guest.
    This time it was the superintendent. He stopped his car before the door of the church. A thick cloud of gray dust flew over the top of the car and down into the quarter. The superintendent was a short, fat man with a large red face and a double chin, and he needed all his energy to get out of the car.
    â€œDr. Joseph,” I said.
    â€œHummmm. Stifling,” he said.
    I thought it was a little cool myself, but I figured that anyone as heavy as he was must have felt stifled all the time. He wheezed his way across the shallow ditch that separated the road from the churchyard. He looked up at me, but I could tell he didn’t remember my name, though he had visited the school once each year since I had been teaching there.
    â€œGrant Wiggins,” I said.
    â€œHow are you, Higgins?”
    â€œWiggins, sir,” I said. “I’m fine.”
    â€œWell, I’m not,” he said. “All this running around. More schools to attend.”
    Dr.