bed?”
“I like to sleep on the floor,” Sunshine said.
“When you are dressed, call me. I’ll be right here,” Miss Tinkham said. Sunshine stood in the door and smiled shyly. “We’ll get your supper now.” Miss Tinkham led the way.
Mrs. Rasmussen and Mrs. Feeley stared in unabashed admiration at the change in Sunshine. She had not waited for her long black hair to dry but parted it in the middle and twisted it into a large round knot at the nape of her neck. The white T-shirt brought out her color and the gay skirt was becoming to her slender body. Her feet and legs were bare.
“Ain’t you got pretty hands,” Mrs. Feeley said, taking one in her own.
“No amount of dishwashing could spoil the shape of those tapering fingers,” Miss Tinkham said. She brought Sunshine a bowl of stew and a piece of French bread.
“Thank you,” Sunshine said, and sat down on the floor, crossing her legs in such a way that each foot rested on the opposite knee. Miss Tinkham gasped in admiration.
“I have seen it in Yogi books, but I’ve never known anyone who could really do it!”
Jasper and Red sat looking at her silently. Captain Dowdy kept on drinking his beer with his back turned to her.
“Excuse me, miss,” Jasper said at last, “I’d like to ask you just one thing: why didn’t you cash in your steamer ticket?”
“I had already disobeyed the Commander and his wife who had been kind to me. To take the money for the ticket? No.”
“How come you talk so good?” Mrs. Feeley said.
“I am graduated from Poyer School. After that I worked in the Samoan Library. We have seven hundred volumes of Western stories.” Sunshine smiled. “But no horses.” She got up and opened the suitcase again. She walked over to Captain Dowdy and the ladies saw that she had the shark’s-tooth necklace in her hand. “I would like, please, to give you this,” she said. “I am sorry for all the inconveniences I have causing you.”
“I don’t want your baubles,” he said a little less gruffly.
“Please take it,” Sunshine said. “It is mea alofa, a gift-thing.”
“Leai lava, not on your tintype,” the captain said. “Keep your pretties and don’t never do no such thing again.”
“I never expected to hear from you to speak Samoan words,” Sunshine said.
“Just a coupla words I picked up around the sailors’ barracks.” The captain was embarrassed. “Well, what say? What we gonna do with her?”
“Could I make a suggestion?” Red smiled.
“You may not!” Miss Tinkham squelched him promptly.
“She’s gonna stay right here with us,” Mrs. Feeley said. “I could do with a young thing round the place to keep me company daytimes…Miss Tinkham an’ Mrs. Rasmussen off on that garbage scow so much o’ the time!”
“Garbage scow is it!” the captain roared.
“That’s scow it is,” Mrs. Feeley yelled, and pulled his cap down over his face and ears.
“Gawd,” he fumed, “open a window! She’s let one o’ them puns.”
Chapter 8
S ATURDAY EVENING Bus Town was radiant. The block rocked with the music over Red’s P.A. system. The asphalt driveway was brightly lighted by baby-spotlights stuck into the ground.
“Only nine dollars apiece at the surplus place,” Oscar said, “including the long waterproof extensions; sure look swell.”
Mrs. Rasmussen raised up from taking a last sniff at the golden, melting roast lamb.
“Sunshine perked right up, didn’t she?” Oscar said.
“She’s sure stacked up,” Red agreed.
“Don’t go squeezin’ your eye at that, boy!” Mrs. Feeley said. “I always say when they start out fightin’ an’ scratchin’, they’ll end up huggin’ an’ kissin’!”
Mrs. Rasmussen withheld comment.
“The cosmic urge is strong tonight!” Miss Tinkham cruised up to lend a hand.
“Cosmic urge nothin’!” Mrs. Feeley laughed. “It’s the old ants in the pants.”
“The music’s so loud I can’t count the plates,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
“I like to sleep on the floor,” Sunshine said.
“When you are dressed, call me. I’ll be right here,” Miss Tinkham said. Sunshine stood in the door and smiled shyly. “We’ll get your supper now.” Miss Tinkham led the way.
Mrs. Rasmussen and Mrs. Feeley stared in unabashed admiration at the change in Sunshine. She had not waited for her long black hair to dry but parted it in the middle and twisted it into a large round knot at the nape of her neck. The white T-shirt brought out her color and the gay skirt was becoming to her slender body. Her feet and legs were bare.
“Ain’t you got pretty hands,” Mrs. Feeley said, taking one in her own.
“No amount of dishwashing could spoil the shape of those tapering fingers,” Miss Tinkham said. She brought Sunshine a bowl of stew and a piece of French bread.
“Thank you,” Sunshine said, and sat down on the floor, crossing her legs in such a way that each foot rested on the opposite knee. Miss Tinkham gasped in admiration.
“I have seen it in Yogi books, but I’ve never known anyone who could really do it!”
Jasper and Red sat looking at her silently. Captain Dowdy kept on drinking his beer with his back turned to her.
“Excuse me, miss,” Jasper said at last, “I’d like to ask you just one thing: why didn’t you cash in your steamer ticket?”
“I had already disobeyed the Commander and his wife who had been kind to me. To take the money for the ticket? No.”
“How come you talk so good?” Mrs. Feeley said.
“I am graduated from Poyer School. After that I worked in the Samoan Library. We have seven hundred volumes of Western stories.” Sunshine smiled. “But no horses.” She got up and opened the suitcase again. She walked over to Captain Dowdy and the ladies saw that she had the shark’s-tooth necklace in her hand. “I would like, please, to give you this,” she said. “I am sorry for all the inconveniences I have causing you.”
“I don’t want your baubles,” he said a little less gruffly.
“Please take it,” Sunshine said. “It is mea alofa, a gift-thing.”
“Leai lava, not on your tintype,” the captain said. “Keep your pretties and don’t never do no such thing again.”
“I never expected to hear from you to speak Samoan words,” Sunshine said.
“Just a coupla words I picked up around the sailors’ barracks.” The captain was embarrassed. “Well, what say? What we gonna do with her?”
“Could I make a suggestion?” Red smiled.
“You may not!” Miss Tinkham squelched him promptly.
“She’s gonna stay right here with us,” Mrs. Feeley said. “I could do with a young thing round the place to keep me company daytimes…Miss Tinkham an’ Mrs. Rasmussen off on that garbage scow so much o’ the time!”
“Garbage scow is it!” the captain roared.
“That’s scow it is,” Mrs. Feeley yelled, and pulled his cap down over his face and ears.
“Gawd,” he fumed, “open a window! She’s let one o’ them puns.”
Chapter 8
S ATURDAY EVENING Bus Town was radiant. The block rocked with the music over Red’s P.A. system. The asphalt driveway was brightly lighted by baby-spotlights stuck into the ground.
“Only nine dollars apiece at the surplus place,” Oscar said, “including the long waterproof extensions; sure look swell.”
Mrs. Rasmussen raised up from taking a last sniff at the golden, melting roast lamb.
“Sunshine perked right up, didn’t she?” Oscar said.
“She’s sure stacked up,” Red agreed.
“Don’t go squeezin’ your eye at that, boy!” Mrs. Feeley said. “I always say when they start out fightin’ an’ scratchin’, they’ll end up huggin’ an’ kissin’!”
Mrs. Rasmussen withheld comment.
“The cosmic urge is strong tonight!” Miss Tinkham cruised up to lend a hand.
“Cosmic urge nothin’!” Mrs. Feeley laughed. “It’s the old ants in the pants.”
“The music’s so loud I can’t count the plates,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.
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