If his Uncle Andrew had overheard this

“Now if you can’t play with Catherine in peace like a decent boy just—stay by yourself. Look at some pictures. Read a book. But you be quiet. And good. Do you hear me?” “Yes’m.” “Very well.” She stood up and her joints snapped. “Come with me, Catherine,” she said. “Let’s bring your crayons.” And she helped Catherine gather up the crayons and the stubs from the window sill and from the carpet. Catherine’s face was still red but she was not crying any more. As she passed Rufus she gave him a glance filled with satisfaction, and he answered it with a glance of helpless malevolence. He listened towards upstairs. If his Uncle Andrew had overheard this, there would really be trouble. But there was no evidence that he had. Rufus felt weak in the knees and in the stomach. He went over to the chair beside the fireplace and sat down. It was mean to pester Catherine like that but he hadn’t wanted to do anything for her anyway. And why did she have to holler like that and bring Aunt Hannah running? He remembered the way her face got red and he knew that he had really been mean to her and he was sorry. But what did she holler for, like a regular crybaby? He would be very careful today, but sooner or later he sure would get back on her. Darn crybaby. Tattletale. The others really did pay him some attention, though. Anybody here ought to know, it’s him. His daddy got killed. Yeah you tell it. Come on and tell us. Just a chance in a million. A million trillion. Never even knowed, knew, what hit him. Shut yer Goddamn mouth. Ain’t you got no sense at all? Instantly killed. Concussion, that was it. Concussion of the brain. Knocked him crazy as a loon, bibblibblebble. Shut yer Goddam mouth. But there was something that made him feel wrong. Ole Tin Lizzie. What you get for driving a auto when you’re drunk, that’s what my dad says. Good ole whiskey. Something he did. Ole Tin Lizzie just rolled back down on top of him whomp. Didn’t either. He didn’t say it didn’t. Not clear enough. Heck, how can that kill anybody? Did, though. Just a chance in a million. Million trillion. Instantly killed. Worse than that, he did. What. How would your daddy like it? He would like me to be with them without them teasing; looking up to me. How would your daddy like it? Like what? Going out in the street like that when he is dead. Out in the street like what?