The day of the locust by Nathanael West Page B

any in the house, but I could call the drugstore and they'd send it right over. Or some ice cream?"
    "No, thanks, please."
    "It's no trouble."
    "My father isn't really a peddler," she said, abruptly. "He's an actor. I'm an actress. My mother was also an actress, a dancer. The theatre is in our blood."
    "I haven't seen many shows. I..."
    He broke off because he saw that she wasn't interested. "I'm going to be a star some day," she announced as though daring him to contradict her.
    I'm sure you...
    "It's my life. It's the only thing in the whole world that I want."
    "It's good to know what you want. I used to be a bookkeeper in a hotel, but..."
    "If I'm not, I'll commit suicide."
    She stood up and put her hands to her hair, opened her eyes wide and frowned.
    "I don't go to shows very often," he apologized, pushing the gingersnaps toward her. "The lights hurt my eyes." She laughed and took a cracker.
    "I'll get fat."
    "Oh, no."
    "They say fat women are going to be popular next year. Do you think so? I don't. It's just publicity for Mae West." He agreed with her.
    She talked on and on, endlessly, about herself and about the picture business. He watched her, but didn't listen, and whenever she repeated a question in order to get a reply, he nodded his head without saying anything.
    His hands began to bother him. He rubbed them against the edge of the table to relieve their itch, but it only stimulated them. When he clasped them behind his back, the strain became intolerable. They were hot and swollen. Using the dishes as an excuse, he held them under the cold water tap of the sink.
    Faye was still talking when Harry appeared in the doorway. He leaned weakly against the door jamb. His nose was very red, but the rest of his face was drained white and he seemed to have grown too small for his clothing. He was smiling, however.
    To Homer's amazement, they greeted each other as though nothing had happened.
    "You okay now, Pop?"
    "Fine and dandy, baby. Right as rain, fit as a fiddle and lively as a flea, as the feller says."
    The nasal twang he used in imitation of a country yokel made Homer smile.
    "Do you want something to eat?" he asked. "A glass of milk, maybe?"
    "I could do with a snack."
    Faye helped him over to the table. He tried to disguise how weak he was by doing an exaggerated Negro shuffle. Homer opened a can of sardines and sliced some bread. Harry smacked his lips over the food, but ate slowly and with an effort.
    "That hit the spot, all righty right," he said when he had finished.
    He leaned back and fished a crumpled cigar butt out of his vest pocket. Faye lit it for him and he playfully blew a puff of smoke in her face.
    "We'd better go, Daddy," she said.
    "In a jiffy, child."
    He turned to Homer.
    "Nice place you've got here. Married?"
    Faye tried to interfere.
    "Dad!"
    He ignored her.
    "Bachelor, eh?"
    "Yes."
    "Well, well, a young fellow like you."
    "I'm here for my health," Homer found it necessary to say.
    "Don't answer his questions," Faye broke in.
    "Now, now, daughter, I'm just being friendly like. I don't mean no harm."
    He was still using an exaggerated backwoods accent. He spat dry into an imaginary spittoon and made believe he was shifting a cud of tobacco from cheek to cheek.
    Homer thought his mimicry funny.
    "I'd be lonesome and scared living alone in a big house like this," Harry went on. "Don't you ever get lonesome?"
    Homer looked at Faye for his answer. She was frowning with annoyance.
    "No," he said, to prevent Harry from repeating the uncomfortable question.
    "No? Well, that's fine."
    He blew several smoke rings at the ceiling and watched their behavior judiciously.
    "Did you ever think of taking boarders?" he asked.
    "Some nice, sociable folks, I mean. It'll bring in a little extra money and make things more homey."
    Homer was indignant, but underneath his indignation lurked another idea, a very exciting one. He didn't know what to say.
    Faye misunderstood his agitation.
    "Cut it out, Dad," she