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Updated: June 10, 2025
It was late and hot when I got home in June and Mother was fussing about this winter that she had no garden and didn't do her share at Aunt Ollie's, so I have farmed most of the summer, and lived on hope; but I'll start in and make things fly this fall, and by spring I'll be sailing around with a horse and carriage like the best of them.
If you talk like that in the city; people will know in a minute that you are from the country." At this, Sammy rallied her scattered wits, and the wide, questioning look was in her eyes, as she replied quietly, "Thank you. I'll try to remember. But tell me, please, what harm could it do, if people did know I came from the country?" It was Ollie's turn to be amazed. "Why you can talk!" he said.
She declined George's pressing invitation to go along to Aunt Ollie's and help load and bring home a part of his share of their summer's crops, on the ground that she had some work to prepare for the coming week. Then Kate went to her room feeling faint and heavy. She lay there most of the day, becoming sorrier for herself, and heavier every passing hour.
Father judged Oliver in that way. He thought that Ollie's joyousness and his courtesy, even his way of taking off his hat, and holding it in his two hands for a moment you've seen him do it a hundred times was only a proof of his Southern shiftlessness caring more for manners than for work. Mother didn't; she understood Ollie better, and so did John, but father never could.
You you know Ollie's goin' away, an' an' an' I was thinkin' about it all day yesterday, an', Daddy, why ain't we got no folks?" Mr. Lane stirred uneasily. Sammy continued, "There's the Matthews's, they've got kin back in Illinois; Mandy Ford's got uncles and aunts over on Lang Creek; Jed Holland's got a grandad and mam, and even Preachin' Bill talks about a pack o' kin folks over in Arkansaw.
She dared not be a party to anything that would lose Aunt Ollie her land; that was settled; but if she went into the venture herself, if she kept the deeds in Aunt Ollie's name, the bank account in hers, drew all the checks, kept the books, would it be safe? Could George buy timber as he thought; could she, herself, if he failed?
A little murmur, as of people drawing together with whispers; a little soft scuffing of cautiously shifted feet on the carpet, followed the question. Ollie shrank back, as if wincing from pain. "Mrs. Chase was upstairs in her room," answered Joe. The weight of a thousand centuries lifted from Ollie's body. Her vision cleared. Her breath came back in measured flow to her lips, moist and refreshing.
It was a bright day in the life of Uncle John Owens, then, when Ollie's lawyer called at the poorhouse and placed under his hands some slender slips of cardboard bearing raised letters, the A B C of his age. His bearded old face shone like a window in which a light has been struck as his fluttering fingers ran over the letters.
He could not have been far away on the day of the inquest; news of the tragic outcome of Ollie's attempt to join him must have traveled to his ears. Yet he had not come forward to take the load of suspicion from Joe's shoulders by confessing the treacherous thing that he had plotted.
Lucy waited till she dared wait no longer, and then said that she must go home, for she knew her mother was already anxious about her. "Oh, you can't go, Lucy," said Ollie; "see how that great tree bends; why, you couldn't keep on your feet for one minute." Just then they looked out of the window and saw Ollie's father riding by.
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