Cinder was still on his mind. He was going to see her, and leave all the evening work for Mary to do alone. Tall, slim, dark as the tree-trunks, he moved quickly through the twilight, then disappeared.
Mary listened at his feet splashing through a pool left by the rain. His overalls would have to be washed again, but that troubled her less than the vague uneasiness that gnawed at her heart. July was not himself. He had gone off and left her with supper to cook, all the things to feed and the cow to milk.
Night fell and the baby had gone back to sleep but July had not come home. Mary drew the pots a little farther away from the fire so the food they held would not scorch or become dry, then she went to the door and looked up and down the street for sign of him.
Children were playing games in the dusk, shouting, singing, screaming out when the one who was "booger-man" ran out from a hiding-place to catch somebody, but Mary's mind was too full of something else to notice them. July loved his home, he loved her and Unex; what made him stay so long? The little new moon slowly fell behind the black trees, a multitude of cold white stars crowded the sky, twinkling, sparkling, now and then one of them
