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Mrs. Hackett found her in her bedroom crying. She stood in doorway and said seriously, I came in to borrow some sugar, Sylvia. The door was open so I just walk in. Now whats on earth s wrong with you?
Sylvia sat up and dried her eyes. Her skirt was wrinkled and her black hair hung in disorder over her forehead. A pin had come out of her imitation lace collar and it had fallen down to catch in the little red buckle at her waist. She said shakily, Hello, Mrs. Hackett. Nothing.
Mrs. Hackett drew down the corners of her mouth. Nothing, indeed. Its because of Chip wanting leave here and go to Canton. Isnt it? Of course it is.
Sylvia pushed her hair aside out of her eyes. I wont do it, she said angrily. I wont.
Mm, Mrs. Hackett said sourly. A boys will is the winds will. Thats a poem. Its the truest thing in the world. It doesnt do any good to fight against it. Remember that and youll have it easier I wont do it. I wont move around to one mill after another all my life, and never have anything, no home, and no-nothing! I wont!
Well its his job if he wants to give it up.
It isnt! Its just as much mine as it is his. I dont believe in that old idea that a womans just a-a slave, to follow a man around whatever he happens to want to do!
Oh, you dont, Mrs. Hackett said. And just what can you do about it?
Sylvia bowed her head and dried her cheeks with her handkerchief. I dont know, she said.
Of course you dont. Youre nothing but a child, Mrs. Hackett said. Youll be twenty years finding out what to do and by that time itll be too late to do you any good. Unless theres somebody around to tell you to begin with. Somebody who knows.
Sylvia was not impressed. What could you tell me Mrs. Hackett? What could anyone do? Ive argued with him until Im almost crazy but he doesnt even listen any more. Hes got his mind set on moving on, to something different that wont be any different at all, and hell want to go again, and A boys will is the winds will, said Mrs. Hackett, Thats what the poem says. Its just as true of a man or an old man, for that matter. The older they get the truer it gets, I guess. Only they give up trying to do anything about it after so long a time. She pushed up her lower lip and looked down her nose at Sylvia. Like Mr. Hackett.
Sylvia looked up, surprised. You mean Mr. Hackett used to want to He was the hardest man to hold down in this town. He got tired of everything, that was his trouble. Its sort of laziness, thats all it is. But he stuck here. He stuck, all right.
Why? Sylvia asked. What did you do?
Well, Mrs. Hackett said, you can take it for what its worth, Sylvia. It worked with Mrs. Hackett, I know that.
But what was it?
Whenever he got all excited about leaving here and going away some place to look for something he thought was better, I simply gave him his way. I didnt oppose him in the least.
Sylvia looked disappointed and confused. Oh.
But, Mrs. Hackett said profoundly, he didnt know it. I always took him on a trip. Just a week or so. And I kept him on the jump every minute of it. I always liked little trips around, anyway. Well, bye the time that man would get home again hed be so tired of jumping around that he wouldnt have left for a thousand dollars. That, Mrs. Hackett said, is something you find about men, Sylvia. They like to start but they like to get back home a whole lot more.
Sylvia said doubtfully. It doesnt seem that Chip would Maybe he wouldnt. Im the last person in the world to try to give other people advice, Sylvia. Nobody wants it and I guess everyone has to live his own life, anyway. But Mr. Hackett says that theyre shutting down the mill for a week, and if Chip was to spend that week in a car traveling along fast from one place to another, without even a chance to catch his breath.Well, a boys will is the winds willthe idea of that is that the wind can change in a minute.
But what if he wouldnt want to go?
Mm. You tell him you want a little vacation before you move to Canton. If he thinks that youve given in to him about moving to Canton, hell take you. You try it and see.
They went up into Michigan, west to Wisconsin, down through Minnesota and Iowa and St. Louis to Memphis, east to Knoxville and up through Louisville to come to home. They were gone six days. Each day Sylvia arranged it so that they got up very early and were on the highway by daylight and she kept on the job, planning the things to visit at the next stop, until late at night. She called upon Chip to stop often at roadside stands and she filled him with hot dogs, soft drinks and bad coffee. She was surprised and delighted at the dull look that appeared in his eyes on the third day.
Mrs. Hackett came over the day after they returned to bring back the cup of sugar she had borrowed. She said, Well ! and paused expectantly, holding the cup of sugar in both hands.
He went back to work today, Sylvia said. There was a tired note in her voice. He hasnt said a thing about going to Canton for several days.
Sylvia sat up and dried her eyes. Her skirt was wrinkled and her black hair hung in disorder over her forehead. A pin had come out of her imitation lace collar and it had fallen down to catch in the little red buckle at her waist. She said shakily, Hello, Mrs. Hackett. Nothing.
Mrs. Hackett drew down the corners of her mouth. Nothing, indeed. Its because of Chip wanting leave here and go to Canton. Isnt it? Of course it is.
Sylvia pushed her hair aside out of her eyes. I wont do it, she said angrily. I wont.
Mm, Mrs. Hackett said sourly. A boys will is the winds will. Thats a poem. Its the truest thing in the world. It doesnt do any good to fight against it. Remember that and youll have it easier I wont do it. I wont move around to one mill after another all my life, and never have anything, no home, and no-nothing! I wont!
Well its his job if he wants to give it up.
It isnt! Its just as much mine as it is his. I dont believe in that old idea that a womans just a-a slave, to follow a man around whatever he happens to want to do!
Oh, you dont, Mrs. Hackett said. And just what can you do about it?
Sylvia bowed her head and dried her cheeks with her handkerchief. I dont know, she said.
Of course you dont. Youre nothing but a child, Mrs. Hackett said. Youll be twenty years finding out what to do and by that time itll be too late to do you any good. Unless theres somebody around to tell you to begin with. Somebody who knows.
Sylvia was not impressed. What could you tell me Mrs. Hackett? What could anyone do? Ive argued with him until Im almost crazy but he doesnt even listen any more. Hes got his mind set on moving on, to something different that wont be any different at all, and hell want to go again, and A boys will is the winds will, said Mrs. Hackett, Thats what the poem says. Its just as true of a man or an old man, for that matter. The older they get the truer it gets, I guess. Only they give up trying to do anything about it after so long a time. She pushed up her lower lip and looked down her nose at Sylvia. Like Mr. Hackett.
Sylvia looked up, surprised. You mean Mr. Hackett used to want to He was the hardest man to hold down in this town. He got tired of everything, that was his trouble. Its sort of laziness, thats all it is. But he stuck here. He stuck, all right.
Why? Sylvia asked. What did you do?
Well, Mrs. Hackett said, you can take it for what its worth, Sylvia. It worked with Mrs. Hackett, I know that.
But what was it?
Whenever he got all excited about leaving here and going away some place to look for something he thought was better, I simply gave him his way. I didnt oppose him in the least.
Sylvia looked disappointed and confused. Oh.
But, Mrs. Hackett said profoundly, he didnt know it. I always took him on a trip. Just a week or so. And I kept him on the jump every minute of it. I always liked little trips around, anyway. Well, bye the time that man would get home again hed be so tired of jumping around that he wouldnt have left for a thousand dollars. That, Mrs. Hackett said, is something you find about men, Sylvia. They like to start but they like to get back home a whole lot more.
Sylvia said doubtfully. It doesnt seem that Chip would Maybe he wouldnt. Im the last person in the world to try to give other people advice, Sylvia. Nobody wants it and I guess everyone has to live his own life, anyway. But Mr. Hackett says that theyre shutting down the mill for a week, and if Chip was to spend that week in a car traveling along fast from one place to another, without even a chance to catch his breath.Well, a boys will is the winds willthe idea of that is that the wind can change in a minute.
But what if he wouldnt want to go?
Mm. You tell him you want a little vacation before you move to Canton. If he thinks that youve given in to him about moving to Canton, hell take you. You try it and see.
They went up into Michigan, west to Wisconsin, down through Minnesota and Iowa and St. Louis to Memphis, east to Knoxville and up through Louisville to come to home. They were gone six days. Each day Sylvia arranged it so that they got up very early and were on the highway by daylight and she kept on the job, planning the things to visit at the next stop, until late at night. She called upon Chip to stop often at roadside stands and she filled him with hot dogs, soft drinks and bad coffee. She was surprised and delighted at the dull look that appeared in his eyes on the third day.
Mrs. Hackett came over the day after they returned to bring back the cup of sugar she had borrowed. She said, Well ! and paused expectantly, holding the cup of sugar in both hands.
He went back to work today, Sylvia said. There was a tired note in her voice. He hasnt said a thing about going to Canton for several days.
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