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nose and chin. Stringy stray pieces of hair had fallen out of her ti#it braid". She'd "brush the lod?s back fron her face by "hoisting her head into the bend of her arm. Couldn't let go of the pitch fork; it'd only slow her down. The hair plopped right back in front of her eyes. It was a losing battle. One sraill consolation, if she moved fast enough it created a small breeze that momentarily blew across thp sweat rivulets runninc down her body, and it felt cool. "Srniie, 2mie, linn* Ate a wxggiy i/onn; V/ov/, you should've seen that little farm girl squirm" her older orother taunted as he dumped, some incre hay for hot* to spread across the stack. "Did not," she screamed. "Did too, iirmie, Ernie, Erra; Sat and ate a worm," Shut up. X never ate a uorm« "Did too," "You two youngsters stop that tomfoolery. Don't you know we've got work to do? Erma, I told you if you want to go up the mountain with me tonight, you'd better behave." "But he started it," she protested. "It doesn't matter. Just don't pay no attention to him. Let it go in one oar and out the other, understand?' She set her jaw even tighter as she trampled, kicked and junvoed to secure each layer of hay and settle any loose air pockets. Sometimes one leg would almost disappear as it fell through a spot that wasn't evenly packed. She vented her anger by jumping harder. The hay was springy and bouncy, just like jumping on a big £iant bed. But jumping on your bed was forbidden. "Here'3 a real special prize for you, 3rmie," her brother laughed as he threu up a fork full. Plop, 58 |
