Mama thought what Moolie really needed was a
few more cotton seeds and lots of pea-vine hay.
I couldn't hear what Mierd and Irene were saying. Aunt Lovie
had let Irene come to spend the night with Mierd, and they were
over on the bench against the wall, whispering and giggling about
something. I wished I knew what was so funny. But, there was no
way to find out, for I was way across the table, up in my high
chair. Well, it wasn't exactly mine, and it wasn't exactly high.
It was a little oak chair some old, old grandpa man had whittled
out for Papa when he was a boy. But, I always sat in it. The good
thing about it was that over on the side next to Mama's chair,
the arm was missing. So, when I got sleepy, all I had to do was
lean right over into her lap. Besides that, it had a brand new
cowhide bottom with fur that sort of tickled my legs.
Mama and Papa soon quit talking about Moolie and started talking
about my big brothers.
"Nannie, quit fretting over the boys! Like as not, the war'll
be over before the army gets either one of them trained.
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