1954-Vol5-No1

ripeness and drying leaves. It was a clean, rich smell. It was a smell that made a body happy because it said there would be plenty for a while.

Colored leaves were beginning to spread like big crazy quilts all over the hills. Crops were ripe. Corn and fodder was in the shock. Strings of dried beans and red pepper pods hung on the kitchen walls. Potatoes would soon be buried in cone-shaped holes in the garden. There were pokes of shelled beans and dried apples in the loft with sweet potatoes spread out on the floor. There were rows of canned berries and tomatoes. Out in the pigpen there were two fat pigs to be knocked in the head for meat and lard. Yes, the fall was a good time to be alive, and the smells told a body so.

It was times like this that Effie liked, riding along on the old mule by herself. She didn't very often have time to sit and just think. There was always so much work to be done that she never felt right just to sit down and think. But it was different now because she had to go to the store every once in a while to get things that couldn't be raised on the farm, and there wasn't anything else to do but just sit still on the mule until she got back home.

She talked to Sally Poynter longer than she had meant to, and she would be late. But Sybil would have supper ready and the milking done. Sybil was a good worker. Effie had done what she ought to do. She had taught Sybil how to do the work any mountain woman had to do. She had started in with Sybil as soon as she was big enough to hold a broom or dishrag. There had been a time while Sybil was just a little tike that Effie had need of what little help she could give—after Sybil's pappy had just picked up and run off without any warning. Tom hadn't been a good man, and she had been afraid of him some. That's why she started carrying her thirty-two when he left. Even after she knew he was dead and she had married Matt Hargis, she just kept on carrying the gun out of habit. Everybody knew she carried it, but nobody said anything. It came in handy lots of times, too. She was a good enough shot to kill running rabbits and leaping squirrels with it. She could bring back fresh meat any time she went out into the woods.

Yes, there was no cause to worry about supper. Sybil was a good cook. Sybil could take care of herself any time. She could