“It is all right, Judy. We can get something ourselves.” Judy's eyes focused slightly. “You've got your boots on.”
Leslie looked down at her feet. “Oh, yeah,” she said, as though she were just noticing them herself. “We thought we'd go out for a while.”
“Is it raining again?” “Yeah.” “I used to like to walk in the rain.” Judy smiled the kind of smile May Belle did in her sleep.
“Well, if you two can manage.... Is Bill back yet?” “No. He said he wouldn't be back until late, not to worry.” “Fine,” she said.
“Oh,” she said suddenly, and her eyes popped wide open. “Oh!” She almost ran back to her room, and the plinkety-plink of the typewriter began at once.
Leslie was grinning. “She came unstuck.” He wondered what it would be like to have a mother
whose stories were inside her head instead of marching across the television screen all day long.
He followed Leslie up the hall to where she was pulling things out of a closet. She handed him a beige raincoat and a peculiar round black woolly hat.
“No boots.” Her voice was coming out of the depths of the closet and was muffled by a line of overcoats. “How about a pair of clumps?”
“A pair of what?” She stuck her head out between the coats. “Cleats. Cleats.” She produced them. They looked like size twelves.
“No. I'd lose them in the mud. I'll just go barefoot.” “Hey,” she said, emerging completely. “Me, too.”
The ground was cold. The icy mud sent little thrills of pain up their legs, so they ran, splashing through the puddles and slushing in the mud.
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