""Ten-year old Winfield, grime-faced and wild... 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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"And winfield was reduced to madness. He stuck his finger against his throat, made a horrible face, and wobbled about, weakly shrilling, 'I'm a ol' pig. Look! I'm a ol' pig. Look at the blood, Ruthie!' And he staggered and sank to the ground, and waved his arms and legs weakly."
(Chapter 10, page 103--Audio: Ch. 10, Part XV--2:04)
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"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.
(Chapter 26, pp. 358-59)