It didn't. By Friday morning,
when my two brothers got home from that World War that had
stopped, Mama had my braids looking fine again. Besides that, the
briar scratches on my face were gone, and I had me some new
shoes!
But Clyde and Walker came rushing in with so many suitcases
and sacks and presents and there was so much kissing and
neck-hugging that I didn't even think to show them my hair or my
lace-up shoes.
While we were getting ready to have our big celebrating
supper, Mama thought of nothing except fixing good stuff to eat.
At least, that's the way she was talking.
"I declare to my soul," she complained to me and Mierd and
Clyde, "this supper table just ain't long enough or wide enough
tonight!"
"How come, Mama?" I climbed up into Clyde's lap so I could
see the peach pickles and jelly Mama had put on the table.
"I reckon, hon, I simply cooked too much. There'll be fifteen
of us to eat-besides your Grandma Ming-so I knew it would take
lots of vittles. But I've cooked more'n our old table can hold.
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