“OK, OK.”—she slid back into the bed—“Boy, you’re mean. I oughta tell Momma on you.
Look, May Belle, you can’t do that. You can’t tell Momma ’bout where me and Leslie go.
She answered with a little sniffing sound. He grabbed her shoulders again. He was desperate.
I mean it, May Belle. You can’t tell nobody nothing!He let her go.
Now, I don’t want to hear about you following me or squealing to Momma ever again, you hear?
Why not?” “’Cause if you do—I’m gonna tell Billy Jean Edwards you still wet the bed sometimes.
You wouldn’t!” “Boy, girl, you just better not try me.
He made her swear on the Bible never to tell and never to follow, but still he lay awake a long time.
How could he trust everything that mattered to him to a sassy six-year-old?
Sometimes it seemed to him that his life was delicate as a dandelion. One little puff from any direction, and it was blown to bits.
EIGHT Easter
Even though it was nearly Easter, there were still very few nights that it was warm enough to leave Miss Bessie out.
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