Reivers, The - William Faulkner [43]
"I dont know," I said. "It must be, or you couldn't keep on talking about it."
"All right," he said. "That's point number one. Now for point number two. Me and you have been good friends as long as we have known each other, we're having a nice trip together; you done already learned a few things you never seen nor heard of before, and I'm proud to be the one to be along and help you learn them. And tonight you're fixing to learn some more things I dont think you have thought about before neither—things and information and doings that a lot of folks in Jefferson and other places too will try to claim you aint old enough yet to be bothered with knowing about them. But shucks, a boy that not only learned to run a automobile but how to drive it to Memphis and get it out of that son of a bitch's private mudhole too, all in one day, is plenty old enough to handle anything he'll meet. Only -" He had to cough again, hard, and clear his throat and then go to the window and open it and spit again and close it again. Then he came back.
"And that's point number three. That's what I'm trying to impress on you. Everything a m—fel—boy sees and learns and hears about, even if he dont understand it at the time and cant even imagine he will ever have any use to know it, some day he will have a use for it and will need it, providing he has still got it and aint give it away to nobody. And then he will thank his stars for the good friend that Has been his friend since he had to be toted around that livery stable on his back like a baby and held Mm on the first horse he ever rode, that warned him in time not to throw it away and lose it for good by forget-fulness or accident or mischance or maybe even just friendly blabbing about what aint nobody else's business but theirs—"
"What you mean is, whatever I see on this trip up here, not to tell Boss or father or Mother or Grandmother when we get back home. Is that it?"
"Dont you agree?" Boon said. "Aint that not a bit more than just pure and sensible good sense and nobody's business but yours and mine? Dont you agree?"
"Then why didn't you just come right out and say so?" I said. Only he still remembered to make me take another bath; the bathroom smelled even more. I dont mean stronger: I just mean more. I didn't know much about boarding houses, so maybe they could have one with just ladies in it. I asked Boon; we were on the way back downstairs then; it was beginning to get dark and I was hungry.
"You damn right they're ladies," he said. "If I so much as catch you trying to show any sass to any of them—"
"I mean, dont any men board here? live here?"
"No. Dont no men actively live here except Mr Binford, and there aint no boarding to speak of neither. But they have plenty of company here, in and out after supper and later on; you'll see. Of course this is Sunday night, and Mr Binford is pretty strict about Sunday: no dancing and frolicking: just visiting their particular friends quiet and polite and not wasting too much time, and Mr Binford sees to it they damn sure better keep on being quiet and polite while they are here. In fact, he's a good deal that way even on week nights. Which reminds me. All you need to do is be quiet and polite yourself and enjoy yourself and listen good in case he happens to say anything to you in particular, because he dont talk very loud the first time and he dont never like it when somebody makes him have to talk twice. This way. They're likely in Miss Reba's room."
They were: Miss Reba, Miss Corrie, Mr Binford and Otis. Miss Reba had on a black dress now, and three more diamonds, yellowing too. Mr Binford was little, the littlest one in the room above Otis and me. He had on a black Sunday suit and gold studs and a big gold watch chain and a heavy moustache, and a gold-headed cane and his derby hat and a glass of whiskey on the table at his elbow. But the first thing you noticed about him was his eyes because the first