"Twelve-year-old-Ruthie... dressed in a real dress of pink muslin that came below her knees was a little serious in her young-ladiness. But Winfield was still a trifle of a snot-nose, a little of a brooder back of the barn, and an inveterate collector and smoker of snipes. And whereas Ruthie felt the might, the responsibility, and the dignity of her developing breasts, Winfield was kid-wild and calfish."
((Chapter 10, page 95--Audio: Ch. 10, Part Vi--0:52)
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"But Ruthie was older, and she knew the tremendousness of the time. 'And goin' to California,' she said again. And she knew this was the great time in her life so far."
(Chapter 10, page 103--Audio: Ch. 10, Part XV--2:26)
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In the darkness of the Joad tent Ruthie and Winfield lay on their mattress, and Ma lay beside them. Ruthie wistered, "Ma!"
"Yeah? Ain't you asleep yet?"
"Ma--they gonna have croquet where we're goin'?"
"I don't know. Get some sleep. We want to get an early start."
"Well, I wisht we'd stay here where we're sure we got croquet."
"Sh!" said Ma.
"Ma, Winfiel' hit a kid tonight"
"He shouldn' of."
"I know. I tol' 'im, but he hit the kid right in the nose an', Jesus, how the blood run down!"
"Don' talk like that. It ain't a nice way to talk."
Winfield turned over. "That kid says we was Okies," he said in an outraged voice. "He says he wasn't no Okie 'cause he come from Oregon. Says we was goddamn Okies. I socked him."
"Sh! You shouln'. He can't hurt you by callin' names."
"Well, I won't let 'im," Winfield said fiercely.
Ruthie said, "You aughta seen the blood run down--all over his clothes."
Ma reached a hand from under the blanket and snapped Ruthie on the cheek with her finger. The little girl went rigid for a moment, and then dissolved into sniffling, quiet crying.
(Chapter 26, pp. 358-59)