As they walked home a bright afterglow tinged the fields and Mary hummed happily. At last, thank God, everything in the world was right. She talked of how she'd cook the bread for supper that night; she'd mix the meal thick and pat it into little flat cakes and fry them. She hadn't made corn-cakes that way in e long time, and the children would be glad for the change. They'd taste fine with the new wild honey Keepsie had robbed from a tree.
For some reason, July came into her mind, maybe because July liked fried corn-cakes better than any other kind of bread or maybe talking to Seraphine about fretting brought July back to her mind. Where was he—gone so long—where? How did he look—after all these years? Had he forgotten her too?
She heaved a sigh as she poured water into the basin on the shelf and washed her hands to mix the meal and water together. The children would all soon be coming in hungry. Already she heard steps outside and a soft tiptoeing right up to the doorway.
