| OCR Text |
Show Chick Sales 3 "Herman, hurry. You need something to eat before you go." Esther hums for a minute, s t i r r i ng the eggs with a fork, and then starts to sing. "And He shall feed His sheep." Herman sticks one foot out of the covers, remembering when she sang the "Messiah" with the Box Elder Tabernacle Choir in Brigham City, when she looked so pretty in her black dress and white collar, when she looked out at him in the audience and smiled as she sang the last "Alleluia" and Herman was so proud to be singled out. "Herman," Alf yells as he splashes water on his face, stretching up on his toes to see his reflection. Herman crawls out of bed and into his overalls. He sits on the floor to lace his boots. He watches his father angle for a clear space in the broken mirror. "The ladies will s t i l l notice," Esther says. Alf fans her attentions away with his l e f t hand. "There's not enough starch in this shirt." "I'm trying to make do, Alf." Alfred fastens his last button. He slips into suspenders and a straw hat. "Your eggs are ready, Herman," Esther says. Herman tries to adjust the twisted strap on his overalls as he scrapes the last of his eggs from the rim of his plate. He wishes for more eggs, dozens of them. He wishes he could scrape all day or stay in bed to read The Tales of King Arthur, his only book except for The Book of Mormon, both gifts from his mother. |
