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- Джон Стейнбек
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- Гроздья гнева
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Timothy
shook
his
head
slowly
.
«
I
dunno
.
Got
no
sense
,
I
guess
.
We
figgered
to
get
us
each
a
hat
.
Can
’
t
do
it
,
I
guess
.
There
’
s
the
place
,
off
to
the
right
there
.
Nice
job
,
too
.
Gettin
’
thirty
cents
an
hour
.
Nice
frien
’
ly
fella
to
work
for
.
»
They
turned
off
the
highway
and
walked
down
a
graveled
road
,
through
a
small
kitchen
orchard
;
and
behind
the
trees
they
came
to
a
small
white
farm
house
,
a
few
shade
trees
,
and
a
barn
;
behind
the
barn
a
vineyard
and
a
field
of
cotton
.
As
the
three
men
walked
past
the
house
a
screen
door
banged
,
and
a
stocky
sunburned
man
came
down
the
back
steps
.
He
wore
a
paper
sun
helmet
,
and
he
rolled
up
his
sleeves
as
he
came
across
the
yard
.
His
heavy
sunburned
eyebrows
were
drawn
down
in
a
scowl
.
His
cheeks
were
sunburned
a
beef
red
.
«
Mornin
’
,
Mr
.
Thomas
,
"
Timothy
said
.
«
Morning
.
»
The
man
spoke
irritably
.
Timothy
said
,
«
This
here
’
s
Tom
Joad
.
We
wondered
if
you
could
see
your
way
to
put
him
on
?
»
Thomas
scowled
at
Tom
.
And
then
he
laughed
shortly
,
and
his
brows
still
scowled
.
«
Oh
,
sure
!
I
’
ll
put
him
on
.
I
’
ll
put
everybody
on
.
Maybe
I
’
ll
get
a
hundred
men
on
.
»
«
We
jus
’
thought
—
"
Timothy
began
apologetically
.
Thomas
interrupted
him
.
«
Yes
,
I
been
thinkin
’
too
.
»
He
swung
around
and
faced
them
.
«
I
’
ve
got
some
things
to
tell
you
.
I
been
paying
you
thirty
cents
an
hour
—
that
right
?
»
«
Why
,
sure
,
Mr
.
Thomas
—
but
—
"
«
And
I
been
getting
thirty
cents
’
worth
of
work
.
»
His
heavy
hard
hands
clasped
each
other
.
