Sury

? fc 61 SURY by SAMANTHA CLEMENTINE We was on our way home from the beanyards, and I had a mess of beans rolled up in my red shirt that I wore when I went to the fields, jist to break the mornin chill. And then I'd lay it down at the end of the row to mark my place all afternoon. And Milderd, she was affeared of granddaddy-long-legs, and they was one on my shirt betwixt us in the seat. So she screamed loud when she seen it. Milderd was a little girl, maybe ten, leven yurs old and her maw lived there in Organ, and she wasn't affeared of harvest folks. Leastways, she knowed me. I camped there on the same place two, three yurs on Mr. Bigson's propity whilst the beans lasted. And that was nice of Mr. Bigson, too, short of tellin me to go on home, stay there, build a house with some rocks under hit and git to be knowed, like respectable folks does. Fer that way, I could work out around and find the best pickin. Had a place like that over to Hood River whur the best apples is once, too, but they suspicioned me of somethin one evenin, and I figgered my goose was cooked come mornin. Takes a little time to work up a law-callin fever when you ain't got no case. But give em time. Give em time. Ain't nobody likes field help, nohow. Jist won't tell ye to go on home and build ye a house with some rocks under hit and git knowed. Fraid ye won't pick thur apples is why. But don't never git accused of nothin. Well, let em pick thur own apples is my lights. So I says, "Ketchin comes before streichen," and I lit out of there in the middle of the night. Ain't never been back sence. And I never done it, neither. So we got to be knowed to each other, Milderd's Maw and me, and she lived right fancy in a fine house, too, but she never did have no kind a religion to speak of. But she knowed I wouldn't pack off her youngun, which is more than most folks in Organ knows about field help, without they have learnt it lately. So I give her credit fer that. So Milderd rode along to the beanyards with me; and two, three more that I got to be knowed to, to shur the gas, that was travellin, too, and thur younguns. And then they was Daisy and Will, and they had mighty nigh a house full of younguns. And we travelled together. But I never had no younguns of my own but one and she wasn't with me no more, but I helped out with two that belonged to my dead kin a lot; tuk them around with me what time they wasn't with some of the other kin folks, and helped Daisy out with her'n all I could. So, all in all, they was two good, full cars of us. And most usual when somebody screams loud right in my year when I'm hot and tard, it unnerves me, and I'm lible to slap anybody I kin reach. It's jist a reaction, more or less. But my sense a yumor was top up that day. I'd made purty good. Had enough fer milk and fixin's, and some to putt on 62 my doctor bills and all. So I teased Milderd and said how she was affeared of a little, old granddaddy. So, a little piece on down the road, I felt somethin a ticklin down in my dress. . .Oh, I reckon that was maybe twenty, twenty-five yurs ago. . .And I screamed and leaped outa the car. Well, it was a little, old, green cattypillar . So I says some of em bites and that was the reason I screamed. Granddaddies don't bite, I says. And Milderd she never said nothin, but I knowed she was a thinkin plenty. So I says well, maybe I did have it...