Aunt Vic had to sweet-talk him and rub
his ears and sweet-talk him some more before he would ever curl
himself up and put his head in her lap to go to sleep.
We rode past Papa's new store, the cotton gin, Mister Goode's
grist mill, and on toward Ash Branch. Speedy trotted along right
pertly where the road was level, but at the foot of the first
steep hill he slowed down.
At the top of the hill was the falling-down church by the
graveyard. As we came alongside the churchyard fence I was
wishing Aunt Vic would stop so I could go see the little lamb on
one of the tombstones. I liked that little gray lamb.
Sometimes when Mama drove our buggy by the old church she let
me get out and run inside the gate to pat the lamb for one quick
minute. And every May, when we all gathered at the graveyard and
stayed all day to chop down the weeds and nettles and to scrape
away the briar vines and grass, Mama let me look at the little
sheep as long as I pleased. He had about the best spot in the
whole graveyard-just inside the fence, under the highest pine.
Pages:
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147