Американська трагедія

Chapter 28

           Butnowthesehard,white-paintedwallsbrightlylightedbywideunobstructedskylightsbydayandashecouldsee—byincandescentlampsinthehallwithoutatnight—yetallsodifferentfromBridgeburg—somuchmorebrightorharshilluminatively.Forthere,thejailbeingold,thewallswereagray-brown,andnotveryclean—thecellslarger,thefurnishingsmorenumerous—atablewithaclothonitattimes,books,papers,achess—andchecker-board—whereashere—herewasnothing,thesehardnarrowwalls—theironbarsrisingtoaheavysolidceilingabove—andthatvery,veryheavyirondoorwhichyet—liketheoneatBridgeburg,hadasmallholethroughwhichfoodwouldbepassed,ofcourse.

           Butjustthenavoicefromsomewhere:

           "Hey!wegotanewonewidus,fellers!Groundtier,secondcell,east."Andthenasecondvoice:"Youdon’tsay.Wot’shelike?"Andathird:"Wot’syername,newman?Don’tbescared.Youain’tnoworseoffthantherestofus."Andthenthefirstvoice,answeringnumbertwo:"Kindatallandskinny.Akid.Looksalittlelikemamma’sboy,butnotbadatdat.Hey,you!Tellusyourname!"

           AndClyde,amazedanddumbandpondering.Forhowwasonetotakesuchanintroductionasthis?Whattosay—whattodo?Shouldhebefriendlywiththesemen?Yet,hisinstinctfortactpromptinghimevenheretoreply,mostcourteouslyandpromptly:"ClydeGriffiths."Andoneofthefirstvoicescontinuing:"Oh,sure!Weknowwhoyouare.

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