You've packed it often enough. Call up Jerdone's private number, and
tell him I want all the flowers he's got. Get a move on you, Moses.
If you're paralyzed tell me; if not--"
"No, sir. I ain't paralyzed. I just demoralized. Suddenness always
did upset me. At dinner you look like you just as lief be dead as
livin', and now--"
"You or I will be dead if I miss that twelve-thirty train. Have you
called the cab?"
"No, sir. I ain't called no cab. You ain't never call the word cab.
You mean--" Moses's hands dropped limply at his side. "You mean
you're goin' away for Christmas?"
"That's what I mean!" Laine's voice was exultant, revealing, and he
coughed to hide its ring. "By the way, Moses, why don't you go home
for Christmas? Didn't you tell me once you came from Virginia? What
part?"
"Palmyra, sir. In Fluvanna County, that's where I come from. Excuse
me, but I bound to set down. Go _home_? Me go _home_? I couldn't
git there and back not to save my life for lessen than twenty-five
dollars, and till I git that farm paid for what I been buyin' to go
back to and die on I can't go nowhere. That I can't."
Laine looked up from the collection of collars, cravats, and cuffs he
was sorting. "Is it the money that's keeping you back, or is it you
don't want to go?"
"Don't want to go!" The palms of Moses's hands came together,
opened, and came back.
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