, to me. The question is, what are they worth to you?"
I couldn't believe my ears. "But, I've got no money, and couldn't get any to buy dogs with!"
The old woman eyed me cannily. "Then maybe you and the big 'un would like to do some work for 'em."
"Yes, ma'am," I said eagerly, "we could do that! I'm good at chores . . ."
"Got a few big pieces of furniture to move down here from the big house. Too much for Williteer. You-all do that and maybe I'll give you the dogs."
Em and I looked at each other. The thought of setting foot across the threshold of the Waugh place threw a chill on the whole proposition. "Shoot the dogs," voted Em.
"No," I said, "I'll help you."
"You can't lift nothing."
"I know what I'm doing." I was already walking toward the house.
"Come back here!" yelled Em.
Miss Lilly caught the drift, and turned to follow me.
"Come back here, I said!" I kept walking. Once I glanced back; he was still at the fence, mumbling, shaking the wire, fretting and cursing to himself. But by the time we reached the yard he was trudging along up the hill, looking warily about.
Miss Lilly opened the door to an upstairs bedroom and it was obvious why she wanted it evacuated. There was an enormous tree limb hanging through a hole in the wall. The rain had peeled the wallpaper and left a large brown stain on the floor, from which she had rolled back an oval hooked rug.
The furniture was of the old solid oak, elaborately scrolled variety that has no redeeming qualities except that it's "in the family," and been in the family, and therefore can't be got rid of, and travels from generation to generation, with the taste of some unschooled and ignorant pioneer girl tormenting every subsequent bride until it meets one with the guts to throw it out. Or smart enough to sell it to the fools who pull U-Hauls and hang out at auctions. Miss Lilly hated it, I could tell by the way she looked at it, but there she was, locked in the tradition, starting it on its way.
"Looks like you could of emptied the drawers," groaned Em, heaving a bureau away from the wall.
"They are empty," she said.
"Oh, God."
"Pick up now, don't you scar the floor!"
"Pick up, hell, I ain't gettin' no rupture rasslin' this junk!"
We maneuvered it through the door and Em got under it trying to lift the rusted rollers over the steps of the stairs. Miss Lilly hovered about fussing and fretting as though we were moving an invalid aunt. When it was dragged across the field and into the new house Em was ready to strike a bargain. "Give him one dog for the bureau, and do what you want with the others."
"Nothing doing, Em," I said.
And Miss Lilly was quick to take my side. "All or none."
Next we wrestled down a dresser with flapping wing mirrors and an overstuffed chair so large Em was moved to comment on the inordinate obesity of the Waugh line. Then he cut his hand knocking the bed apart. "Now look! Just look at that!" He stepped out and let the high headboard crash to the floor and examined his bleeding palm by the window. "Right across the lifeline," he said woefully. "I knew I should'a never set foot in this place."
Miss Lilly lifted her dress and tore a strip of cloth from somewhere underneath. But Em backed away in horror. "Get away from here! Wrop it in that thing hit'd rot off at the elbow!"
"Get blood poisoning, then, see if I care. Just don't you get blood on my furniture."
When the room was emptied she took a key from her pocket and locked it as casually as if she were leaving for the day. She moved to the other rooms, the kitchen, choosing what else she wanted dragged to the new house. When the last items were moved we were both eager to get out in the open air. I drew a drink from the well but Em shook his head. He kept his cut hand closed in a protective fist. Miss Lilly came and stood on the back steps. She said nothing.
"Well, we'll go now," I said. "Where are the puppies?"
Still she said nothing. She stood with her head tilted to allow the sun
I couldn't believe my ears. "But, I've got no money, and couldn't get any to buy dogs with!"
The old woman eyed me cannily. "Then maybe you and the big 'un would like to do some work for 'em."
"Yes, ma'am," I said eagerly, "we could do that! I'm good at chores . . ."
"Got a few big pieces of furniture to move down here from the big house. Too much for Williteer. You-all do that and maybe I'll give you the dogs."
Em and I looked at each other. The thought of setting foot across the threshold of the Waugh place threw a chill on the whole proposition. "Shoot the dogs," voted Em.
"No," I said, "I'll help you."
"You can't lift nothing."
"I know what I'm doing." I was already walking toward the house.
"Come back here!" yelled Em.
Miss Lilly caught the drift, and turned to follow me.
"Come back here, I said!" I kept walking. Once I glanced back; he was still at the fence, mumbling, shaking the wire, fretting and cursing to himself. But by the time we reached the yard he was trudging along up the hill, looking warily about.
Miss Lilly opened the door to an upstairs bedroom and it was obvious why she wanted it evacuated. There was an enormous tree limb hanging through a hole in the wall. The rain had peeled the wallpaper and left a large brown stain on the floor, from which she had rolled back an oval hooked rug.
The furniture was of the old solid oak, elaborately scrolled variety that has no redeeming qualities except that it's "in the family," and been in the family, and therefore can't be got rid of, and travels from generation to generation, with the taste of some unschooled and ignorant pioneer girl tormenting every subsequent bride until it meets one with the guts to throw it out. Or smart enough to sell it to the fools who pull U-Hauls and hang out at auctions. Miss Lilly hated it, I could tell by the way she looked at it, but there she was, locked in the tradition, starting it on its way.
"Looks like you could of emptied the drawers," groaned Em, heaving a bureau away from the wall.
"They are empty," she said.
"Oh, God."
"Pick up now, don't you scar the floor!"
"Pick up, hell, I ain't gettin' no rupture rasslin' this junk!"
We maneuvered it through the door and Em got under it trying to lift the rusted rollers over the steps of the stairs. Miss Lilly hovered about fussing and fretting as though we were moving an invalid aunt. When it was dragged across the field and into the new house Em was ready to strike a bargain. "Give him one dog for the bureau, and do what you want with the others."
"Nothing doing, Em," I said.
And Miss Lilly was quick to take my side. "All or none."
Next we wrestled down a dresser with flapping wing mirrors and an overstuffed chair so large Em was moved to comment on the inordinate obesity of the Waugh line. Then he cut his hand knocking the bed apart. "Now look! Just look at that!" He stepped out and let the high headboard crash to the floor and examined his bleeding palm by the window. "Right across the lifeline," he said woefully. "I knew I should'a never set foot in this place."
Miss Lilly lifted her dress and tore a strip of cloth from somewhere underneath. But Em backed away in horror. "Get away from here! Wrop it in that thing hit'd rot off at the elbow!"
"Get blood poisoning, then, see if I care. Just don't you get blood on my furniture."
When the room was emptied she took a key from her pocket and locked it as casually as if she were leaving for the day. She moved to the other rooms, the kitchen, choosing what else she wanted dragged to the new house. When the last items were moved we were both eager to get out in the open air. I drew a drink from the well but Em shook his head. He kept his cut hand closed in a protective fist. Miss Lilly came and stood on the back steps. She said nothing.
"Well, we'll go now," I said. "Where are the puppies?"
Still she said nothing. She stood with her head tilted to allow the sun
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