They came sleepily out of the tent. Uncle John staggered a little, and his face was pained.
“Git over to that house and wash up,” Ma ordered. “We got to get breakfus’ an’ be ready for the Committee.” She went to a little pile of split wood in the camp lot. She started a fire and put up her cooking irons. “Pone,” she said to herself. “Pone an’ gravy. That’s quick. Got to be quick.” She talked on to herself, and Ruthie and Winfield stood by, wondering.
The smoke of the morning fires arose all over the camp, and the mutter of talk came from all sides.
Rose of Sharon, unkempt and sleepy-eyed, crawled out of the tent. Ma turned from the cornmeal she was measuring in fistfuls. She looked at the girl’s wrinkled dirty dress, at her frizzled uncombed hair. “You got to clean up,” she said briskly. “Go right over and clean up. You got a clean dress. I washed it. Git your hair combed. Git the seeds out a your eyes.” Ma was excited.
Rose of Sharon said sullenly, “I don’ feel good. I wisht Connie would come. I don’t feel like doin’ nothin’ ’thout Connie.”
Ma turned full around on her. The yellow cornmeal clung to her hands and wrists. “Rosasharn,” she said sternly, “you git upright. You jus’ been mopin’ enough. They’s a ladies’ committee a-comin’, an’ the fambly ain’t gonna be frawny when they get here.”
“But I don’ feel good.”
Ma advanced on her, mealy hands held out. “Git,” Ma said. “They’s times when how you feel got to be kep’ to yourself.”
“I’m a-goin’ to vomit,” Rose of Sharon whined.
“Well, go an’ vomit. ’Course you’re gonna vomit. Ever’body does. Git it over an’ then you clean up, an’ you wash your legs an’ put on them shoes of yourn.” She turned back to her work. “An’ braid your hair,” she said.
A frying pan of grease sputtered over the fire, and it splashed and hissed when Ma dropped the pone in with a spoon. She mixed flour with grease in a kettle and added water and salt and stirred the gravy. The coffee began to turn over in the gallon can, and the smell of coffee rose from it.
Pa wandered back from the sanitary unit, and Ma looked critically up. Pa said, “Ya say Tom’s got work?”
“Yes, sir. Went out ’fore we was awake. Now look in that box an’ get you some clean overhalls an’ a shirt. An’, Pa, I’m awful busy. You git in Ruthie an’ Winfiel’s ears. They’s hot water. Will you do that? Scrounge aroun’ in their ears good, an’ their necks. Get ’em red an’ shinin’.”
“Never seen you so bubbly,” Pa said.
Ma cried, “This here’s the time the fambly got to get decent. Comin’ acrost they wasn’t no chancet. But now we can. Th’ow your dirty overhalls in the tent an’ I’ll wash ’em out.”
Pa went inside the tent, and in a moment he came out with pale blue, washed overalls and shirt on. And he led the sad and startled children toward the sanitary unit.
Ma called after him, “Scrounge aroun’ good in their ears.”
Uncle John came to the door of the men’s side and looked out, and then he went back and sat on the toilet a long time and held his aching head in his hands.
Ma had taken up a panload of brown pone and was dropping spoons of dough in the grease for a second pan when a shadow fell on the ground beside her. She looked over her shoulder. A little man dressed all in white stood behind her—a man with a thin, brown, lined face and merry eyes. He was lean as a picket. His white clean clothes were frayed at the seams. He smiled at Ma. “Good morning,” he said.
Ma looked at his white clothes and her face hardened with suspicion. “Mornin’,” she said.
“Are your Mrs. Joad?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m Jim Rawley. I’m camp manager. Just dropped by to see if everything’s all right. Got everything you need?”
Ma studied him suspiciously. “Yes,” she said.
Rawley said, “I was asleep when you came last night. Lucky we had a place for you.” His voice was warm.
Ma said simply, “It’s nice. ’Specially them wash tubs.”
“You wait till the women get to washing. Pretty soon now. You never heard such a fuss. Like a meeting. Know what they did yesterday, Mrs. Joad? They had a chorus. Singing a hymn tune and rubbing the clothes all in time. That was something to hear, I tell you.”
The suspicion was going out of Ma’s face. “Must a been nice. You’re the boss?”
“No,” he said. “The people here worked me out of a job. They keep the camp clean, they keep order, they do everything. I never saw such people. They’re making clothes in the meeting hall. And they’re making toys. Never saw such people.”