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doo you do？〃 Wharton held his belly and howled。 〃Gosh； if it had only been ka…ka！ I wish it had been！ If I'd had me some of that………〃
〃You are ka…ka；〃 Brutal growled； 〃and I hope you got your bags packed； because you're going back down to your favorite toilet。〃
Once again Wharton was bundled into the strait jacket； and once again we stowed him in the room with the soft walls。 Two days； this time。 Sometimes we could hear him raving in there； sometimes we could hear him promising that he'd be good； that he'd e to his senses and be good； and sometimes we could hear him screaming that he needed a doctor； that he was dying。 Mostly； though； he was silent。 And he was silent when we took him out again； too； walking； back to his cell with his head down and his eyes dull； not responding when Harry said； 〃Remember； it's up to you。〃 He would be all right for a while； and then he'd try something else。 There was nothing he did that hadn't been tried before （well； except for the thing with the moon…pie； maybe； even Brutal admitted that was pretty original）； but his sheer persistence was scary。 I was afraid that sooner or later someone's attention might lapse and there would be hell to pay。 And the situation might continue for quite awhile； because somewhere he had a lawyer who was beating the bushes； telling folks how wrong it would be to kill this fellow upon whose brow the dew of youth had not yet dried … and who was； incidentally； as white as old Jeff Davis。 There was no sense plaining about it； because keeping Wharton out of the chair was his lawyer's job。 Keeping him safely jugged was ours。 And in the end； Old Sparky would almost certainly have him； lawyer or no lawyer。
6。
That was the week Melinda Moores； the warden's wife； came home from Indianola。 Th
