“Good morning, Mr Dyer.” He’s just like an adult, Lennie thought, impressed. Dad, by contrast, seemed unusually awkward. He wiped his hand on his trousers before taking Ralph’s. “Pleased to meet you, Ralph.” “Can Ralph see the pigeons?” Lennie asked. “Yes. Yes, of course,” said Dad. He led the way into the loft. Ralph gazed around at the tiers of cooing pigeons. “I don’t suppose you’ve been in a pigeon loft before, young man?” Dad asked. His voice sounded odd, Lennie thought, falsely jocular; he had never seen his father so ill at ease. “No, I haven’t.” Ralph began to ask questions: how far the birds flew, what they ate, what they were called, how the race system worked. Soon Dad had relaxed and began talking animatedly. He let Ralph hold a pigeon, showing him how to contain its fluttering. Lennie was glad he hadn’t asked Dad before about lending one to Ralph. He suspected that Dad wouldn’t have liked the idea. But now Ralph’s enthusiasm would surely win him over.
