Uncle Louie left them in the buggy while he went into the Big Store to get them each a pair of boys’ overalls to play in, a pickle crock, a sack of meal, and a big tin of tobacco, all of which he put in the back of the buggy where his corn shucker was tied. He had a bag of licorice jelly beans for Almedy, too, he said. Almedy, being an orphan and helping with the chores, liked a treat now and then. Maybe she was too big to play with them, he said, but she’d help them keep their bibs and tuckers clean.

They were nearing East Elmville Township where Uncle Louie lived and coming to Uncle Louie’s neighbors. As they approached each farm, no matter how far back the house and farm buildings were from the road, Uncle Louie slowed the horse, leaned far out and yodelled “Hi-yi, Dolphie!” or “Hi-yi—Charlie!” From the distant cornfields or from the barn an echo would come back, “Hi-yi, Louie!” These echoes rode miles on the wind and were mocked by the horse’s whinnying to the neighbor horses who whinnied back from fields, galloping along pasture fences beside them to the next dividing rails. On the wind, too, was the sad sweet fragrance of clover, the dusty smell of wheat, of new-cut wood lying in the green woods, of unseen fish ponds and fresh-plowed earth. They passed the Chapmans’ farm, ramshackle unpainted house and sheds all leaning against each other as if one big grunt from the sows running around in the mud would blow them all down. Uncle Louie waved the whip and yelled in greeting. Innumerable heads popped up from a row of currant bushes.

“Company!” yelled Uncle Louie, “You kids come over!”

The answering yell from a dozen throats sounded savage and derisive to the children but was probably friendly.

“Fine kids,” said Uncle Louie. “Pack of hellions.”

Now they came to the lane and there was no holding the horse. Lena and Marcia, gasping, hung on to their hats. Uncle Louie stood up shouting, “Hi-yi Betts, hi-yi!” A woman’s voice halloed back. The horse galloped through the gates, which Aunt Betts had barely lowered in time, and ran straight into the barn. Hearts pounding, the children were lifted out; the panting horse whinnied triumph to her sisters and brothers and they whinnied welcome. Roosters crowed, hens set up an excited din. Aunt Betts—small, black-eyed, rosy, and roly-poly—came running up with her checkered apron over her head, calling greetings. The cows, now ambling up from the valley for milking, mooed, dogs leaped about them and barked, the turkey cock ran up gobbling, the whole countryside brayed and sang a welcome to the two girls.

Aunt Betts hurried them up to the big jolly house, shooed the flies off the kitchen screen with her apron, and whisked them into the big kitchen. Marcia sniffed cherry pie baking and there was a fine chocolate cake smell, too, coming from the stove. She began to jump up and down in ecstasy, but suddenly there was a bleating noise from Lena. She had her face screwed up, her underlip thrust out, and her fists in her eyes. Aunt Betts picked her up on her lap and started rocking her just as if she was Florrie.