Jessie said, “Las’ week, when you was Chair, you done it all. I’ll thank you to keep out this week.”
“Well, tell what that lady done,” Ella said.
“Well,” said Jessie, “it ain’t this committee’s business to go a-blabbin’, but I won’t pass no names. Lady come in las’ week, an’ she got in here ’fore the committee got to her, an’ she had her ol’ man’s pants in the toilet, an’ she says, ‘It’s too low, an’ it ain’t big enough. Bust your back over her,’ she says. ‘Why couldn’ they stick her higher?”’ The committee smiled superior smiles.
Ella broke in, “Says, ‘Can’t put ’nough in at oncet.”’ And Ella weathered Jessie’s stern glance.
Jessie said, “We got our troubles with toilet paper. Rule says you can’t take none away from here.” She clicked her tongue sharply. “Whole camp chips in for toilet paper.” For a moment she was silent, and then she confessed. “Number Four is usin’ more than any other. Somebody’s a-stealin’ it. Come up in general ladies’ meetin’. ‘Ladies’ side, Unit Number Four is usin’ too much.’ Come right up in meetin’!”
Ma was following the conversation breathlessly. “Stealin’ it—what for?”
“Well,” said Jessie, “we had trouble before. Las’ time they was three little girls cuttin’ paper dolls out of it. Well, we caught them. But this time we don’t know. Hardly put a roll out ’fore it’s gone. Come right up in meetin’. One lady says we oughta have a little bell that rings ever’ time the roll turns oncet. Then we could count how many ever’body takes.” She shook her head. “I jes’ don’ know,” she said. “I been worried all week. Somebody’s a-stealin’ toilet paper from Unit Four.”
From the doorway came a whining voice, “Mis’ Bullitt.” The committee turned. “Mis’ Bullitt, I hearn what you says.” A flushed, perspiring woman stood in the doorway. “I couldn’ git up in meetin’. Mis’ Bullitt. I jes’ couldn’. They’d a-laughed or somepin.”
“What you talkin’ about?” Jessie advanced.
“Well, we-all—maybe—it’s us. But we ain’t a-stealin’, Mis’ Bullitt.”
Jessie advanced on her, and the perspiration beaded out on the flustery confessor. “We can’t he’p it. Mis’ Bullitt.”
“Now you tell what you’re tellin’,” Jessie said. “This here unit’s suffered a shame ’bout that toilet paper.”
“All week, Mis’ Bullitt. We couldn’ he’p it. You know I got five girls.”
“What they been a-doin’ with it?” Jessie demanded ominously.
“Jes’ usin’ it. Hones’, jes’ usin’ it.”
“They ain’t got the right! Four-five sheets is enough. What’s the matter’th ’em?”
The confessor bleated, “Skitters. All five of ’em. We been low on money. They et green grapes. They all five got the howlin’ skitters. Run out ever’ ten minutes.” She defended them, “But they ain’t stealin’ it.”
Jessie sighed. “You should a tol’,” she said. “You got to tell. Here’s Unit Four sufferin’ shame ’cause you never tol’. Anybody can git the skitters.”
The meek voice whined, “I jes’ can’t keep ’em from eatin’ them green grapes. An’ they’re a-gettin’ worse all a time.”
Ella Summers burst out, “The Aid. She oughta git the Aid.”
“Ella Summers,” Jessie said, “I’m a-tellin’ you for the las’ time, you ain’t the Chair.” She turned back to the raddled little woman. “Ain’t you got no money, Mis’ Joyce?”
She looked ashamedly down. “No, but we might git work any time.”
“Now you hol’ up your head,” Jessie said. “That ain’t no crime. You jes’ waltz right over t’ the Weedpatch store an’ git you some grocteries. The camp got twenty dollars’ credit there. You git yourself fi’ dollars’ worth. An’ you kin pay it back to the Central Committee when you git work. Mis’ Joyce, you knowed that,” she said sternly. “How come you let your girls git hungry?”
“We ain’t never took no charity,” Mrs. Joyce said.
“This ain’t charity, an’ you know it,” Jessie raged. “We had all that out. They ain’t no charity in this here camp. We won’t have no charity. Now you waltz right over an’ git you some grocteries, an’ you bring the slip to me.”