The Grapes of Wrath Page #3

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Carrying his coat under his arm, TOM wipes his face with his

cap as he cuts off the road to acknowledge the greeting.

TOM:

Howdy.

He stops, grateful for the momentary relief of the shade.

CASY:

Say, ain't you young Tom Joad--ol'

Tom's boy?

TOM:

(surprised)

Yeah. On my way home now.

CASY:

Well, I do declare!

(Grinning)

I baptized you, son.

TOM:

(staring)

Why, you're the preacher!

CASY:

*Used* to be. Not no more. I lost

the call.

(Reminiscently)

But boy, I sure *used* to have it!

I'd get an irrigation ditch so

squirmin' full of repented sinners I

pretty near *drowned* half of 'em!

(Sighing)

But not no more. I lost the sperit.

TOM:

(with a grin)

Pa always said you was never cut out

to be a preacher.

CASY:

I got nothin' to preach about no

more--that's all. I ain't so sure o'

things.

TOM:

Maybe you should a got yourself a

wife.

CASY:

(shakes his head sadly)

At my meetin's I used to get the

girls glory-shoutin' till they about

passed out. Then, I'd go to comfort

'em--and always end up by lovin'

'em. I'd feel bad, an' pray, an'

pray, but it didn't do no good. Next

time, do it again. I figgered there

just wasn't no hope for me.

TOM:

I never let one go by me when I could

catch her.

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