it will get washed this evening,” said the large woman starting up the “Then street, dragging the frightened boy behind her. He looked as if he were fourteen or fifteen, frail and willow-wild, in tennis shoes and blue jeans. The woman said, ought to be my son. I would teach you right from wrong. “You Least I can do right now is to wash your face. Are you hungry?” said the being-dragged boy. just want you to turn me loose.” “No’m,” “I I bothering you when I turned that corner?” asked the woman. “Was “No’m.” you put yourself in contact with me,” said the woman. you think that that “But “If contact is not going to last awhile, you got another thought coming. When I get through with you, sir, you are going to remember Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones.” popped out on the boy’s face and he began to struggle. Mrs. Jones stopped, jerked him around in front of her, put a half nelson about his neck, and continued to drag him up the street. When she got to her door, she dragged the boy inside, down a hall, and into a large kitchenette-furnished room at the rear of the house. She switched on the light and left the door open. The boy could hear other roomers laughing and talking in the large house. Some of their doors were open, too, so he knew he and the woman were not alone. The woman still had him by the neck in the middle of her room. She said, is your name?” “What answered the boy. “Roger,” you go to that sink and wash your face,” said the woman, “Then, whereupon she turned him loose—at last. Roger looked at the door—looked at the woman—looked at the door—and went to the sink. the water run until it gets warm,” she said. a clean towel.” “Let “Here’s gonna take me to jail?” asked the boy, bending over the sink. “You
“Then it will get washed this evening,” said the large woman starting up the street, dragging the frightened boy behind her. He looked as if he were fourteen or fifteen, frail and willow-wild, in tennis shoes and blue jeans. The woman said, “You ought to be my son. I would teach you right from wrong. Least I can do right now is to wash your face. Are you hungry?” “No’m,” said the being-dragged boy. “I just want you to turn me loose.” “Was I bothering you when I turned that corner?” asked the woman. “No’m.” “But you put yourself in contact with me,” said the woman. “If you think that that contact is not going to last awhile, you got another thought coming. When I get through with you, sir, you are going to remember Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones.” popped out on the boy’s face and he began to struggle. Mrs. Jones stopped, jerked him around in front of her, put a half nelson about his neck, and continued to drag him up the street. When she got to her door, she dragged the boy inside, down a hall, and into a large kitchenette-furnished room at the rear of the house. She switched on the light and left the door open. The boy could hear other roomers laughing and talking in the large house. Some of their doors were open, too, so he knew he and the woman were not alone. The woman still had him by the neck in the middle of her room. She said, “What is your name?” “Roger,” answered the boy. “Then, you go to that sink and wash your face,” said the woman, whereupon she turned him loose—at last. Roger looked at the door—looked at the woman—looked at the door—and went to the sink. “Let the water run until it gets warm,” she said. “Here’s a clean towel.” “You gonna take me to jail?” asked the boy, bending over the sink.
Thank%20You%20Mam%20Full%20Text.docx