Taking off my coat, I spread it over her body. I dreaded to think of what I had to do on the morrow.
My father and sisters were waiting for us on the porch. Mama told them the sad story.
My sisters broke down and started crying. They ran to Mama and buried their faces in her long cotton dress.
Papa came over and laid his hand on my shoulder. “Billy,” he said, “there are times in a boy’s life when he has to stand up like a man.
This is one of those times. I know what you’re going through and how it hurts, but there’s always an answer.
The Good Lord has a reason for everything He does.” “There couldn’t be any reason for my dogs to die, Papa,” I said.
“There just couldn’t. They hadn’t done anything wrong.” Papa glanced at Mama.
Getting no help from her, he said, “It’s getting cold out here. Let’s go in the house. I have something to show you.”
“Guess what we’re having for supper,” Mama said, as we turned to enter the house. “Your favorite, Billy, sweet potato pie.
You’ll like that, won’t you?” I nodded my head, but my heart wasn’t in it. Papa didn’t follow us into the kitchen.
He turned and entered his bedroom. When he came into the room, he had a small shoe box in his hand.
I recognized the box by the bright blue ribbon tied around it. Mama kept her valuables in it. A silence settled over the room.
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