There could be no doubt that it was the committee; three ladies, washed, dressed in their best clothes: a lean woman with stringy hair and steel-rimmed glasses, a small stout lady with curly gray hair and a small sweet mouth, and a mammoth lady, big of hock and buttock, big of breast, muscled like a dray-horse, powerful and sure. And the committee walked down the road with dignity.
Ma managed to have her back turned when they arrived. They stopped, wheeled, stood in a line. And the great woman boomed, “Mornin’, Mis’ Joad, ain’t it?”
Ma whirled around as though she had been caught off guard. “Why, yes—yes. How’d you know my name?”
“We’re the committee,” the big woman said. “Ladies’ Committee of Sanitary Unit Number Four. We got your name in the office.”
Ma flustered, “We ain’t in very good shape yet. I’d be proud to have you ladies come an’ set while I make up some coffee.”
The plump committee woman said, “Give our names, Jessie. Mention our names to Mis’ Joad. Jessie’s the Chair,” she explained.
Jessie said formally, “Mis’ Joad, this here’s Annie Littlefield an’ Ella Summers, an’ I’m Jessie Bullitt.”
“I’m proud to make your acquaintance,” Ma said. “Won’t you set down? They ain’t nothin’ to set on yet,” she added. “But I’ll make up some coffee.”
“Oh, no,” said Annie formally. “Don’t put yaself out. We jes’ come to call an’ see how you was, an’ try to make you feel at home.”
Jessie Bullitt said sternly, “Annie, I’ll thank you to remember I’m Chair.”
“Oh! Sure, sure. But next week I am.”
“Well, you wait’ll next week then. We change ever’ week,” she explained to Ma.
“Sure you wouldn’ like a little coffee?” Ma asked helplessly.
“No, thank you.” Jessie took charge. “We gonna show you ’bout the sanitary unit fust, an’ then if you wanta, we’ll sign you up in the Ladies’ Club an’ give you duty. ’Course you don’ have to join.”
“Does—does it cost much?”
“Don’t cost nothing but work. An’ when you’re knowed, maybe you can be ’lected to this committee,” Annie interrupted. “Jessie, here, is on the committee for the whole camp. She’s a big committee lady.”
Jessie smiled with pride. “’Lected unanimous,” she said. “Well, Mis’ Joad, I guess it’s time we tol’ you ’bout how the camp runs.”
Ma said, “This here’s my girl, Rosasharn.”
“How do,” they said.
“Better come ’long too.”
The huge Jessie spoke, and her manner was full of dignity and kindness, and her speech was rehearsed.
“You shouldn’ think we’re a-buttin’ into your business, Mis’ Joad. This here camp got a lot of stuff ever’body uses. An’ we got rules we made ourself. Now we’re a-goin’ to the unit. That there, ever’body uses, an’ ever’body got to take care of it.” They strolled to the unroofed section where the wash trays were, twenty of them. Eight were in use, the women bending over, scrubbing the clothes, and the piles of wrung-out clothes were heaped on the clean concrete floor. “Now you can use these here any time you want,” Jessie said. “The on’y thing is, you got to leave ’em clean.”
The women who were washing looked up with interest. Jessie said loudly, “This here’s Mis’ Joad an’ Rosasharn, come to live.” They greeted Ma in a chorus, and Ma made a dumpy little bow at them and said, “Proud to meet ya.”
Jessie led the committee into the toilet and shower room.
“I been here awready,” Ma said. “I even took a bath.”
“That’s what they’re for,” Jessie said. “An’ they’s the same rule. You got to leave ’em clean. Ever’ week they’s a new committee to swab out oncet a day. Maybe you’ll git on that committee. You got to bring your own soap.”
“We got to get some soap,” Ma said. “We’re all out.”
Jessie’s voice became almost reverential. “You ever used this here kind?” she asked, and pointed to the toilets.
“Yes, ma’am. Right this mornin’.”
Jessie sighed. “Tha’s good.”
Ella Summers said, “Jes’ las’ week——”
Jessie interrupted sternly, “Mis’ Summers—I’ll tell.”
Ella gave ground. “Oh, awright.”