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Updated: May 2, 2025
After much growling and an extended quarrel with her son, the woman set on a corner of a wabbly-legged table, littered with all manner of unsavory junk, two raw eggs, punctured and warmed, a bowl of hot water and a stale slab of pan dulce, a cross between poor bread and worse cake. I wandered on into the town in the hope of finding some imitation of a hotel.
They've kept knocking me and quoting 'Kiss me again who are you? and then groaning. It's funny. I loved it when everybody else said it was great. But I didn't care much for it myself, the way they said it." Kedzie flung herself on the tremulous wabbly-legged divan. Kedzie didn't like the phrase, either, now.
Even the mama deer brought their little, wabbly-legged baby deer to introduce to Sally Migrundy; and she rubbed their sleek sides and talked to them so they couldn't but love her. Now Sally Migrundy had always lived in her tiny cottage on the bank of the tinkling stream which ran through the whispering forest. She had lived there when the largest trees in the forest were tiny little sprouts.
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