"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.

"You God damn tramp," he said viciously. "You done it, di’n’t you? I s’pose you’re glad. Ever’body knowed you’d mess things up. ..."

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.

And Lennie said softly to the puppy, "Why do you got to get killed? You ain’t so little as mice. I didn’t bounce you hard."

Couldn’ we maybe bring him in an’ they’ll lock him up? He’s nuts, Slim. He never done this to be mean.

I done a bad thing. I done another bad thing.

"God damn you," he cried. "Why do you got to get killed? You ain’t so little as mice." He picked up the pup and hurled it from him.

"I lived right in Salinas," she said. "Come there when I was a kid. Well, a show come through, an’ I met one of the actors. He says I could go with that show. But my ol’ lady wouldn’ let me. ..."

"George gonna give me hell," he said. "George gonna wish he was alone an' not have me botherin' him."