As she came near her home Mrs. Sardotopolis was leaning over the bundle in
her arms, crying, "Joe! Joe! Do you hear, Joe?"
The streets swarmed with the early evening crowds of men and women going
home. In the cars the people stood packed as if they were sardines.
A few feet from her door beside the candy and notion store Mrs.
Sardotopolis stopped. Her heavy face had grown white. She raised the
bundle closer to her eyes and looked at it.
"Joe!" she repeated. "What's a matter, Joe?"
The bundle was silent. So Mrs. Sardotopolis pinched it. Then she stared at
the closed eyes. Then she seized the bundle and crushed it desperately in
her heavy arms, against her heavy bosom.
"Joe!" she repeated. "What's a matter, Joe?"
The glazier sitting in front of his glassware store stood up and blinked.
"Whatsamatter?" he asked.
Mrs. Sardotopolis didn't answer, but stood in front of her house, holding
the bundle in her arms and repeating its name. A small crowd gathered. She
addressed herself to several women of her race.
"I knew, before it come," she said. "He didn't want no ice cream."
Mrs. Sardotopolis walked upstairs and laid the bundle down on the table.
It lay without moving and Mrs.
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