She knew—and yet she didn't know. She had seen and heard the barn cats yowling under the windows at night, and the hogs at mating time. With Paul and the Hansen kids she had risked a thrashing by hiding in the corncrib when Pa took Betsy over to the Hansens' stallion. Was this the way people did it? Was this what married people did in bed at night? If you said a thing out loud it was so—it had really happened. She was afraid to ask.

"I'm sorry, kid."

His voice was choked with crying. He rubbed his eyes, and there were dirty finger marks on his cheeks. He turned away. "Seemed like I couldn't help it. It was my fault."

"It was both our fault. I couldn't help it either."

And that was true. Even when it was hurting the worst, it was like something was pushing her so she couldn't stop.

"It's a terrible sin," Paul said dismally. He wiped his nose on his cut-off sleeve and fumbled at fixing his clothes, looking the other way.

"Pa would kill us both."

"Never tell anybody," Paul said sternly. "It would be awful if anybody found out. Like when Marie Pierce had the baby, remember?"

The most terrible thought struck her now. She grabbed his arm. "You reckon I can get a baby from this?"

Even in the dimness of the haymow, she saw him turn pale. His cheeks were so white the freckles stood out in relief. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Frantic with fear, she shook him. "Can I, though?"

"W-well, that's how they get started. That's what they do. Don't you even know that, for cripes sake?"

"Sure I know it. But can you when it's your brother?"

"They breed cows with their relations," Paul said uncertainly. He cleared his throat. "I don't know for sure about people. Anyhow, maybe you're not old enough."

That was some comfort, but not much. The burden of her maturing bosom was on her. Paul said, "I never heard of anybody having a baby when they were twelve years old."

"Thirteen. They do in India. Says so in the geography."

They sat side by side in shared misery until Ma's querulous voice came drifting across the barnyard. "Paul! Pau-aul! I might as well go myself as send that boy, he's as bad as she is."

Paul moved to get up. "You better wait till I get back to the house. Then come in the back way and get your supper."

I'm not hungry, she thought, I'll never eat again.