“Well, I don’t like to think about it all,” Edna said. “Now, come on—everybody get in and off we’ll go.”

“Did you forget anything?” Edna fretted as Sarah checked the tools on the floor of the carriage. “Rake, hoe, shears—”

“It’s all there,” Edna said. “I think it’s too bold of Selma! Pleasing herself if you want my opinion, prancing about like a Zouave.”

“Jane! B.B.! Come back here or we’ll leave you!” Doreen called, but the children had joined the marchers and pretended not to hear.

“Never you mind,” Sarah said to Edna. “Here comes Lotus with the picnic baskets. I thought she’d go with us today if there’s room.”

Lotus, now a stout, capable woman who was gradually assuming her mother Myrtis’s dominion over the kitchen, had stepped out the back door, kicking it to behind her. In each hand she carried a large deep basket; and strong though she was, her shoulders sloped with the weight of the load.

Doreen and Sarah shifted the work tools to make room for the food baskets. When shouted threats failed to bring the children, Rachel ran to fetch them. A little time was then required to decide the placing of the party. Edna and Sarah sat on the rear seat facing forward, with Jane demanding a place between them, forgetting her earlier preference for riding backwards. Rachel and Lotus occupied the back-facing seat. Doreen and B.B. again shared the driver’s position. As Doreen turned the carriage in a large circle, the sound of Selma’s cadenced commands to the children came to them: “Left, right, up, down! They were right to hang John Brown!”

Edna rested on a backless stone bench between the Davis and Kendrick burial grounds as the others worked. The sun shone feebly for a while and then was gradually blotted out by thickening clouds. Sarah, wiping sweat from her face with her dress sleeve, joined Edna and said, “I can’t do as much as I used to. It’s the bending. Oh, I can bend right enough, but then it’s hard straightening up!” She laughed at herself and arched her back until bones snapped.

“While I sit here doing nothing,” Edna observed broodingly.

“You’ve done more in your life than all of us together ever shall, and don’t you forget it.”

“Even if true, it wouldn’t make up for my not being able to do now.” She paused, thinking, her face gradually showing surprise. “I don’t understand it, I declare I don’t. In my head I feel I can do as much as any of you; then when I start to, I hear this awful sound and realize it’s me, breathing.”

“You go about it too fast,” Sarah said equably.

“It’s hard to admit you’re old and good for nothing.”