Lennie Small

“He can do anything you tell him,” said George. “He’s a good skinner. He can rassel grain bags, drive a cultivator. He can do anything. Just give him a try.”

He’s my … cousin. I told his old lady I’d take care of him. He got kicked in the head by a horse when he was a kid.

I don’ like this place, George. This ain’t no good place. I wanna get outa here.

I think you got your han' caught in a machine. If you don't tell nobody what happened, we ain't going to. But you jus' tell an' try to get this guy canned and we'll tell ever'body, an' then will you get the laugh.

Well, that girl rabbits in an' tells the law she been raped. The guys in Weed start a party out to lynch Lennie.

Get 'im, Lennie. Don't let him do it.

Now maybe George ain’t gonna let me tend no rabbits, if he fin’s out you got killed.

"Please don’t," he begged. "Oh! Please don’t do that. George’ll be mad."

Only Lennie was in the barn, and Lennie sat in the hay beside a packing case under a manger in the end of the barn that had not been filled with hay. Lennie sat in the hay and looked at a little dead puppy that lay in front of him.

I like to pet nice things. Once at a fair I seen some of them long–hair rabbits. An’ they was nice, you bet. Sometimes I’ve even pet mice, but not when I could get nothing better.