It was hunger that finally aroused them to action. The clock on the wall told them that it was almost half-past seven, and they left the waiting-room and passed out again into the chill of the March morning. But the sun was shining strongly now and there was a spring softness in the air that made June whistle gaily as they made their way back up the railroad in search of “Mister Denny’s” lunch-wagon. There they had some steaming hot coffee, and some crisp rolls and butter and, since there was still a nickel in the exchequer, three bananas which they consumed outside. To be sure, that left them penniless, but somehow that didn’t seem to matter so much this morning. There was something in the spring-like air that gave them courage and confidence. Besides, whatever happened, they had a home, such as it was, in the old shed. Presently they again set forth on their search for employment, agreeing to meet at five o’clock.
But again it was June who prospered and Wayne who returned empty-handed. June proudly displayed forty cents in dimes and nickels which he had earned in as many capacities as there were coins in his hand. Not only had he earned that forty cents, but he had dined sumptuously on a pork chop, having traded a quarter of an hour of his time and labour for that delicacy at a little restaurant. For his part, Wayne had gone dinnerless and was thoroughly discouraged. Even the tattered but still useful horse blanket which June had picked up outside a flour mill across the town could not cheer Wayne’s spirits.
“Reckon,” said June, spreading the blanket out proudly, “someone done lose that as didn’t mean to, Mas’ Wayne, ’cause it’s a powerful nice blanket, ain’ it?” Wayne listlessly agreed and June dropped it through the window which was their means of ingress and egress. “It’s goin’ to keep us fine an’ warm tonight, that little ol’ blanket is. Tomorrow I’m goin’ to find me a bed to go with it! You hungry enough to eat, Mas’ Wayne?”
Wayne shook his head. “I don’t want any supper,” he replied.
“Don’ want no supper! How come? What-all you have for your dinner, please?”
“I had enough,” answered Wayne. “You go ahead and have your supper, June.”
June snorted. “Mighty likely, ain’ it?” he demanded scathingly. “Reckon you can see this nigger eatin’ all by his lonely. No, sir, Mas’ Wayne, you-all’s goin’ to eat, too. If you don’ there ain’ goin’ to be no supper for nobody.”