All of them, including Juanita and Violet and Sugar, ate and said they could eat no more, and then ate more. They were talking of lying down on the ragged old quilts that had been brought along as underlining for the tablecloths, when they heard a horse approaching. Presently, they saw that the man riding him was Roscoe Elk. They stared at him. He returned their look with less surprise.

“Good day!” he said. “You are having a children’s outing. A nice time and place for it too. I am glad to see you enjoy yourselves on my new, small property.”

“Is it yours?” Sarah asked.

“I don’t remember it belonging to anybody,” Edna said.

Roscoe shook his head, smiling. “I took it as a favor from someone who needed a little ready money. It is useless to me. I shall not think of disturbing the old graves. There is nothing to do about the grove anyhow, except to be gratified that such as you come here and find it a pleasant place to sit and enjoy yourselves. You are welcome. Perhaps my sons will like it too. I shall tell their mother to bring them one day.”

He bowed from the saddle and turned the horse’s head away with the bridle and left them.

The children played again, but Edna and Sarah watched Roscoe go, and continued to stare at nothing when he disappeared from view. The children were too tired for games, and their stomachs were too full for exercise, and so very soon they subsided on the quilt pallets and slept. Edna leaned her head against the trunk of a tree and slept too, leaving Sarah to muse on the growing affluence of Roscoe Elk.

When Edna woke, they called to the children to say they must soon be going. Juanita and Violet helped Edna and Sarah load the depleted baskets and dirty dishes and glasses into the wagon, while Sugar hitched up the mules. Finally, they all settled themselves in the wagon, some sitting on the rush chairs, others on the bare floor boards. Roman again sat at the tailgate, trying notes on the flute, now and again glancing back at Adam. He did not envy the boy or want anything of him; he wanted to be him.

Bone, deciding not to travel home on his own feet, pretended to love children; and so a place was made for him, and he was made much of, as the old wagon creaked along the hard clay road back to Oaks and Beulah Land.

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