Uncle Jolly rose among the blossoms, playing like one leg was shorter than the other. “Ma’s puny,” he said. “Didn’t feel well enough to take the trip. Said for me to come on, and to tell you all she wasn’t going to live eternal and forever, and for all to come to see her. I got Elias Horn’s woman to stay with her till I get back. And I borrowed Elias’s pony-devil to ride.”

“I’ve been aiming to go,” Mother said. “I had in head going the first chance.”

Uncle Jolly looked toward the far end of the yard. “By juckers,” he said. “First tree ever I saw lay eggs.”

Aunt Rilla and Uncle Luce came in time for dinner, walking the creek bed road with Lala, Crilla, Tishy, and Lue strung out behind. Aunt Rilla carried Foan, the youngest, in her arms. Nezzie Crouch came walking alone from Blackjack, tired from the eleven-mile journey. Uncle Toll and Aunt Sue Ella were there by daylight next morning, and we all set to work getting ready for Sunday. The floors were scrubbed twice over with a shuck mop, and the smoky walls washed down. Jimson-weeds were cut in the backyard; the woodpile was straightened. Mother cut the heads off of fifteen dommers and our last guinea. The stove stayed hot all day Friday, baking and frying. Cushaw pies covered the kitchen table.

“I reckon you’ve got enough shucky beans biled to feed creation,” Nezzie Crouch said. “Alpha, you hain’t never been in such a good fix. You’d be puore foolish moving to Blackjack agin. Hit’s been a hard scrabble there.”

“Since I married I’ve been driv from one coal camp to another,” Mother said, taking her hands out of bread dough. “I’ve lived hard as nails. I’ve lived at Blue Diamond. I’ve lived at Chavies, Tribbey, Butterfly Two, Elkhorn, and Lackey. We moved to Hardburly twice, and to Blackjack beyond counting. I reckon I’ve lived everywhere on God’s green earth. Now I want to set me down and rest. The baby is buried here, and I’ve earnt a breathing spell. We done right well this crap. We got plenty.”

Aunt Sue Ella kept us children shooed out of the kitchen. We hung around Uncle Jolly until he put a lizard up Fletch’s breeches leg, and threw a bucket of water on the rest of us. “Sometimes I fair think Jolly is a witty,” Aunt Rilla said.

Father met Preacher Sim Mobberly at the mouth of Flaxpatch Saturday morning, taking Elias Horn’s nag for him to ride. But they both came back walking, being ashamed to straddle the sorry mount. Father said he didn’t know the pony had a saddle boil until he had started with her.