Death In The Family, A - James Agee [30]
“Very well then, let’s see what we can do about it,” she said, more than reassured; and suddenly she suspected in something like its full magnitude the long, careless denial, and the importance of the cap to the child. She wondered whether he would speak of it—would try, in any cowardly or goody-goody way, to be “truthful” about his mother’s distaste for the idea (though she supposed he ought to be—truthful, that is); or, better, whether he could imagine, and try to warn her that in buying it for him, she risked displeasing his mother; and realized, then, that she must take care not to set him against his mother. She waited with some curiosity for what he might say, and when he found no words, said, “Don’t worry about Mar—about your mother. I’m sure if she knew you really wanted it, you would have had it long ago.”
He just made a polite, embarrassed little noise and she realized, with regret, that she did not know how to manage it properly. But she was certainly not going, on that account, to deny what she had offered; she compressed her lips and, by unaccountable brilliance of intuition went straight past Miller’s, a profoundly matronly store in which Rufus’ mother always bought the best clothes which were always, at best, his own second choice, and steered round to Market Street and into Harbison’s, which sold clothing exclusively for men and boys, and was regarded by his mother, Rufus had overheard, as “tough” and “sporty” and “vulgar.” And it was indeed a world most alien to women; not very pleasant men turned to stare at this spinster with the radiant, appalled little boy in tow; but she was too blind to understand their glances and, sailing up to the nearest man who seemed to be a clerk (he wore no hat) asked briskly, without embarrassment, “Where do I go, please, to find a cap for my nephew?” And the man, abashed into courtesy, found a clerk for her, and the clerk conducted them to the dark rear of the store. “Well, just see what you like,” said Aunt Hannah; and still again, the child was astonished. He submitted so painfully conservative a choice, the first time, that she smelled the fear and hypocrisy behind it, and said carefully, “That is very nice, but suppose we look at some more, first.” She saw the genteel dark serge, with the all but invisible visor, which she was sure would please Mary most, but she doubted whether she would speak of it; and once Rufus felt that she really meant not to interfere, his tastes surprised her. He tried still to be careful, more out of courtesy, she felt, than meeching, but it was clear to her that his heart was set on a thunderous fleecy check in jade green, canary yellow, black and white, which stuck out inches to either side above his ears and had a great scoop of visor beneath which his face was all but lost. It was a cap, she reflected; which even a colored sport might think a little loud, and she was painfully tempted to interfere. Mary would have conniption fits; Jay wouldn’t mind, but she was afraid for Rufus’ sake that he would laugh; even the boys in the block, she was afraid, might easily sneer at it rather than admire it—all the more, she realized sourly, if they did admire it. It was going to cause no end of trouble, and the poor child might soon be sorry about it himself. But she was switched if she was going to boss him! “That’s very nice,” she said as little drily as she could manage. “But think about it, Rufus. You’ll be wearing it a long time, you know, with all sorts of clothes.” But it was impossible for him to think about anything except the cap; he could even imagine how tough it was going to look after it had been kicked around a little. “You’re very sure you like it,” Aunt Hannah said.
“Oh, yes,” said Rufus.
“Better than this one?” Hannah indicated the discreet serge.
“Oh, yes,” said Rufus, scarcely hearing her.
“Or this one?” she said, holding up a sharp little checkerboard.
“I think I like it best of all,” Rufus said.
“Very well, you shall have it,” said Aunt Hannah, turning to the cool clerk.
Chapter […]
Waking in darkness, he saw the