closing his eyes. He would have fallen asleep a second time but for the insistence of Philip's toe, the desperate crying of the child, and Philip's voice saying, "Wake up! Wake up!" There was something in the very prodding of the toe which indicated a contempt or at least a lack of respect. Jason noticed it and scowled.
"I just fell asleep for a minute," he said. "It couldn't have been long." But all the cocksureness had turned into an air of groveling apology.
"Where's Naomi?"
"She went off to Mabelle's." He took a pair of cigars from the yellow waistcoat and asked, "Have a cigar?"
"No. Not now." Philip continued to pat the baby's fat back. Suddenly he felt desperate, suffocated and helpless. The cry of the child hurt him.
He said, "She's been at Mabelle's all day."
"I do believe she said she'd be back after choir practice." He lighted the cigar and regarded the end of it thoughtfully. Philip began to walk up and down, and presently his father said, without looking at him, "You ain't living with Naomi, are you? I mean here in this house? You ain't sleeping with her?"
"No . . . I'm not."
"I thought so. Your Ma was trying to make me believe you was." He cocked his head on one side. "But I smelled a rat . . . I smelled a rat. I knew something was wrong."
Philip continued his promenade in silence.
"How'd you ever come to hook up with Naomi?"
"Because I wanted to . . . I suppose."
Jason considered the answer thoughtfully. "No, I don't believe you did. I ain't very bright, but I know
