Part 3 (1/2)
”'Tain't got nothing to do with you.”
His voice was very low.
”It's got everything to do with me. So it has! You said that afore yourself; and you was right. Ain't I put it up? Ain't I looked high and low the house through? Ain't that ole uniform of your grand-dad's been the only rag I could lay my hands on? Was there anything else I could use? Was there?”
”Aw--maw--!”
”Ain't we needed a scarecrow down there? With them birds so awful bad?
Pecking away at the corn; and pecking.”
”'Tain't your fault, maw.”
”There warn't nothing else but that there ole uniform. I wouldn't have took it, otherwise. Poor ole Pa so desperate proud of it as he was. Him fighting for his country in it. Always saying that he was. He couldn't be doing enough for his country. And that there ole uniform meaning so much to him. Like a part of him I used to think it,--and--. You wanting to say something, Ben?”
”Naw--naw--!”
”He wouldn't even let us be burying him in it. 'Put my country's flag next my skin'; he told us. 'When I die keep the ole uniform.' Just like a part of him, he thought it. Wouldn't I have kept it, falling to pieces as it is, if there'd have been anything else to put up there in that there corn field?”
She felt the boy stiffen suddenly.
”And with him a soldier--”
He broke off abruptly.
She sensed what he was about to say.
”Aw, Benny--. That was different. Honest, it was. He warn't the only one in his family. There was two brothers.”
The boy got to his feet.
”Why won't you let me go?” He asked it pa.s.sionately. ”Why d'you keep me here? You know I ain't happy! You know all the men've gone from these here parts. You know I ain't happy! Ain't you going to see how much I want to go? Ain't you able to know that I want to fight for my country?
The way he did his fighting?”
The boy jerked his head in the direction of the figure standing waist deep in the corn field; standing rigidly and faintly outlined beneath the haunting flood of moonlight.
”Naw, Benny. You can't go. Naw--!”
”Why, maw? Why d'you keep saying that and saying it?”
”I'm all alone, Benny. I've gave all my best years to make the farm pay for you. You got to stay, Benny. You got to stay on here with me. You just plain got--to! You'll be glad some day, Benny. Later--on. You'll be right glad.”
She saw him thrust his hands hastily into his trouser pockets.
”Glad?” His voice sounded tired. ”I'll be shamed. That's what I'll be.
Nothing, d'you hear, nothing--but shamed!”
She started to her feet.
”Benny--” A note of fear shook through the words. ”You wouldn't--wouldn't--go?”