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"Bitsy, is Byrd Bowlin courting you proper? I don’t want you getting in trouble So They feel alone and seek coet themselves"

"Miss Patience, how can you say that?"

When she reverts to "Miss Patience," I know she’s one further The Reverend Miller’s wife gave me the same sort of talkWhat kind of a person do you think I am? What kind of man would Bowlin be if he expected that?"

"Well, you know, all those young girls, like Twyla and Harriet and her sister Sojourner, aren’t just tra buttons I just don’t want you getting in trouble" I think of ht After the loss of ain, but being sterile has an advantage No worries about getting knocked up Not that (with the exception of Hester) there’s been any chance since Ruben died

"I wish everyone would just leave et another bucket of beans, then bangs down in her chair in a huff "After the quilting bee we’re going to his parents’ for dinner, and then he’ll bringlike "Don’t coo I’ve said ht of the silvery moon" and throw Mrs Maddock’s invitation across the table at her By the light--of the silverywe cut hay from the back pasture with the rusty scythe I found in the barn and sharpened with a file until the blade was razor thin I swing the wooden-handled i, and Bitsy rakes the long sweet grass into piles and then drags it in an old blanket to a fenced-in area behind the barn The stack is as high as our heads, but we’ll need a lot more with a horse, cow, and calf to feed

At noon we quit and, behind the springhouse, strip down to our waists and scream as we pour buckets of cold water over each other Then Bitsy puts on her second-best dress and rides her bicycle to Hazel Patch, and I put on my second-best dress and wander down the dusty road to Sarah Maddock’s for tea

I knock on the three-paneled oak door with a leaded glassI hadn’t noticed the ornate pattern before because the screen was across it, but the glass is edged with a delicate border of flowers and leaves No one answers, so I knock again There are lace curtains hanging, and I can’t see inside I hope Mrs Maddock didn’t forget about me

"Hello!" I yell "Anyone home?"

"Come in," a woman answers from deep in the house

I turn the knob

"Patience?"

The call see room and enter the empty kitchen On the way, I admire the cast-iron Phoenix woodstove with the ornate silver-plated top, the carved oak fold-down desk, and the floor laed blue silk shade, but there’s no tier

"Here"

"Mrs Maddock?"

"On the back porch"

I’ like my own back porch, a small room where we keep buckets, our washtub, old rubber boots, winter coats, things that need fixing, and wet dogs, but I’th of the house with high-backed white wicker furniture and ferns in hanging baskets