“Yes, they were,” I said, “and to beat it all, the boys jumped on me and knocked me down in the dirt.
If it hadn’t been for the marshal, I would have taken a beating.” Papa said, “So you met the marshal. What did you think of him?”
I told him he was a nice man. He had bought me a bottle of soda pop. At the mention of soda pop, the blue eyes of my sisters opened wide.
They started firing questions at me, wanting to know what color it was, and what it tasted like.
I told them it was strawberry and it bubbled and tickled when I drank it, and it made me burp.
The eager questions of my three little sisters had had an effect on my father and mother.
Papa said, “Billy, I don’t want you to feel badly about the people in town.
I don’t think they were poking fun at you, anyway not like you think they were.”
“Maybe they weren’t,” I said, “but I still don’t want to ever live in town.
It’s too crowded and you couldn’t get a breath of fresh air.” In a sober voice my father said, “Some day you may have to live in town.
Your mother and I don’t intend to live in these hills all our lives. It’s no place to raise a family. A man’s children should have an education.
They should get out and see the world and meet people.” “I don’t see why we have to move to town to get an education,” I said.
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