I hurried on into the front
room. There she was, leaning against the wall, talking on the
phone. She just reached down, patted my head, and kept on talking
to Aunt Vic. She didn't even notice Sookie Sue.
I crawled up into a rocking chair to wait.
I wished I could talk on the phone-about cotton crops, or
peaches, or just anything. It wouldn't do a speck of good though
to ask Mama to let me try it. She'd only say I was too little.
But I knew exactly how to turn the crank on the side of the phone
and how to hold the ear piece.
And I could remember every ring on the line. Ours was two
longs and a short. Aunt Vic's was two longs. Aunt Lovie's was a
short and a long. And if I was going to call up Papa's store, I'd
just give the phone's crank one long twist.
I didn't dare ask Mama if I could talk. She'd tell me all
that business about telephones being for important matters and
that when anybody called us, some grownup person should
answer-not me, or Wiley, or even Mierd, who was already going on
twelve years old.
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