Of course—he broke the rhythm of the milking long enough to shove his hair out of his face—
of course what I really need is a brain transplant.
I know Leslie. I know she's not going to bite my head off or make fun of me if I say I don't want to go across again till the creek's down.
All I gotta do is say “Leslie, I don't wanta go over there today.” Just like that. Easy as pie.
“Leslie, I don't want to go over there today.” “How come?” “How come. Because, because, well because....”
“I called ya three times already.” May Belle was imitating Ellie's prissiest manner.
“Called me for what?” “Some lady wants you on the telephone. I had to get dressed to come get you.”
He never got phone calls. Leslie had called him exactly once,
and Brenda had gone into such a song and dance with her about Jess's getting a call from his sweetheart
that Leslie had decided it was simpler to come to the house and get him when she wanted to talk.
“Sounds kinda like Miss Edmunds.” It was Miss Edmunds. “Jess?” her voice flowed through the receiver.
“Miserable weather, isn't it?” “Yes'm.” He was scared to say more for fear she'd hear the shake.
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