Uncollected Stories of William Faulkner Read Online Free Page B

supper.”
    Louvinia had put the corn bread on the table and was going out. But she stopped and looked at Granny. “You mean you gonter take that heavy trunk all the way to Memphis with you?”
    “Yes,” Granny said. She was eating; she didn’t even look at Louvinia. Louvinia stood there looking at the back of Granny’s head.
    “Whyn’t you leave hit here where hit hid good and I can take care of hit? Who gonter find hit, even if they was to come here again? Hit’s Marse John they done called the reward on; hit ain’t no trunk full of—”
    “I have my reasons,” Granny said. “You do what I told you.”
    “All right. But how come you wanter dig hit up tonight when you ain’t leaving until tomor—”
    “You do what I said,” Granny said.
    “Yessum,” Louvinia said. She went out. I looked at Granny eating, with her hat sitting on the exact top of her head, and Ringo looking at me across the back of Granny’s chair with his eyes rolling a little.
    “Why not leave it hid?” I said. “It’ll be just that much more load on the wagon. Joby says that trunk will weigh a thousand pounds.”
    “A thousand fiddlesticks!” Granny said. “I don’t care if it weighed ten thousand—” Louvinia came in.
    “They be ready,” she said. “I wish you’d tell me why you got to dig hit up tonight.”
    Granny looked at her. “I had a dream about it last night.”
    “Oh,” Louvinia said. She and Ringo looked exactly alike, except that Louvinia’s eyes were not rolling so much as his.
    “I dreamed I was looking out my window, and a man walked into the orchard and went to where it is and stood there pointing at it,” Granny said. She looked at Louvinia. “A black man.”
    “A nigger?” Louvinia said.
    “Yes.”
    For a while Louvinia didn’t say anything. Then she said, “Did you know him?”
    “Yes,” Granny said.
    “Is you going to tell who hit was?”
    “No,” Granny said.
    Louvinia turned to Ringo. “Gawn tell your pappy and Loosh to get the lantern and the shovels and come on up here.”
    Joby and Loosh were in the kitchen. Joby was sitting behind the stove with a plate on his knees, eating. Loosh was sitting on the wood box, still, with the two shovels between his knees, but I didn’t see him at first because of Ringo’s shadow. The lamp was on the table, and I could see the shadow of Ringo’s head bent over and his arm working back and forth, and Louvinia standing between us and the lamp, her hands on her hips and her elbows spread and her shadow filling the room. “Clean that chimney good,” she said.
    Joby carried the lantern, with Granny behind him, and then Loosh; I could see her bonnet and Loosh’s head and the two shovel blades over his shoulder. Ringo was breathing behind me. “Which un you reckon she dremp about?” he said.
    “Why don’t you ask her?” I said. We were in the orchard now.
    “Hoo,” Ringo said. “Me ask her? I bet if she stayed herewouldn’t no Yankee nor nothing else bother that trunk, nor Marse John neither, if he knowed hit.” Joby set the lantern down and he and Loosh dug up the trunk where we buried it last summer. Granny carried the lantern, and it took Ringo and me both to help carry the trunk back to the house, but I don’t believe it weighed a thousand pounds. Joby began to bear away toward the wagon.
    “Take it into the house,” Granny said.
    “We better load hit now and save having to handle hit again tomorrow,” Joby said.
    “Take it into the house,” Granny said. So, after a while, Joby moved on toward the house. We could hear him breathing now, saying “Hah!” every few steps. Inside the kitchen he let his end down, hard.
    “Hah!” he said. “That’s done, thank God.”
    “Take it upstairs,” Granny said.
    Joby turned and looked at her. He hadn’t straightened up yet; he turned, half stooping, and looked at her. “Which?” he said.
    “Take it upstairs,” Granny said. “I want it in my room.”
    “You mean you gonter tote