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Her lips had pulled away from each other, baring her teeth. "You tell Ralph he's mistaken about my son," she ground out. "That's what I told him," Peachy went on in a breaking voice. "But he said you wouldn't have anything to do or say about it. He said that Honey-Boy would be trained in these matters by his father, not by his mother. I said that you would fight them both.
"I don't mind being without them so much myself" Lulu's tone was a little doubtful "though I think they would help me with Honey-Boy and Honey-Bunch. Sometimes ." She did not finish. "And then," Honey went on decidedly, "it's not natural for women to fly. God never intended them to." "It is wonderful," Lulu said admiringly, "how men know exactly what God intended." Honey roared.
Mother Bunker swept Mun Bun into her arms then and kissed his chubby neck. "Of course you have a trunk, honey-boy," she cried. "All your little body between your shoulders and your legs is your trunk. So you all have trunks, and so do the dogs." The children laughed delightedly at this, but Laddie suddenly stopped laughing.
Angela joined Honey-Boy and Peterkin. For a moment she poised in the air; then she sank and began languidly to dig in the sand. "I couldn't let her hear it," Peachy said. "It's about her. Ralph ." She lost control of herself for a moment; and now her sobs had voice. "I asked him last night about Angela and her flying. I don't exactly know why I did.
Outside the world still lay in sunshine, the land cut by the beginning of shadow, the sea streaked with purple and green. "Why didn't you bring the children?" Julia, asked. Lulu answered. "Honey and Frank were going in swimming this morning, and they said they'd take care of them. I'm glad to get Honey-Boy off my hands for an afternoon." "And why hasn't Peachy come?" Julia asked.
Junior stood for an instant imitatively reaching up with his baby hands, then abandoning the attempt waddled off after a big butterfly. Honey-Boy slipped and slid to the ground, but he was up in an instant and at it again. Angela fluttered with baby-violence. Julia opened her arms.
Lulu, he said that Angela might marry Honey-Boy, as they were the nearest of age. He said that Honey-Boy would certainly cut her wings, that he, no more than Honey, could endure a wife who flew. He said that all earth-men were like that. Lulu, would you let your child do do that to my child?" Lulu's face had changed almost horribly. Her eyes glittered between narrowed lids.
Honey-Boy, having apparently just waked, stared, owl-like, his brows pursed in comic reproduction of his father's expression. Junior grinned his widest grin and padded the air unceasingly with his pudgy hands. Honey-Bunch slept placidly in Julia's arms. Julia advanced a little from her group and dropped a single monosyllable. "Well?" she said in an inflexible, questioning voice.
He asked me what chance you would have against your husband and your son. He he he always spoke as if Honey-Boy were more Honey's child than yours, and as though Angela were more his child than mine. He said that he had talked this question over with the other men when Angela's wings first began to grow. He said that they made up their minds then that her wings must be cut when she became a woman.
There was tremendous conviction in her voice, as though she were defending herself from some silent accusation. "But it isn't the same. It isn't. It can't be. Besides, I want to fly with her." The ripples in the cove grew to little waves, to big waves, to combers. The women talked and the children played. Honey-Boy and Peterkin waded out to their shoulders, dipped, and pretended to swim back.
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