I.
“In many ways, Haley, this is the nicest room in the house, even though it is little and has only one window,” said Annie Cooley, a woman in her middle twenties. She sat on the edge of the cot, her heavy legs crossed, and watched her sixteen-year-old cousin unpack his small suitcase. “The view of the elm grove and the duck pond is very good, and you’ll have a lot of more privacy than any of us, in this end of the house.”
Haley Brandon arranged his three white shirts in one corner of a deep bureau drawer, and nodded absently at the end of each of Annie’s sentences. He was tired after a fitful night aboard a railroad coach, and glad that Annie was content to talk on and on without calling upon him to contribute to the conversation. She was a complete stranger to him, and not a very interesting-looking one at that. He would not have known what to say to her, if it had been up to him to lead the talking. He was something less than adept at making new friends quickly, he thought uncomfortably. He glanced out of the window. Not even the land was remotely reminiscent of anything he had seen before.
“Now you take Kitty and Hope,” Annie continued, referring to her younger sisters, “their windows look right out on the new hog barn and the tool shed, and I’ve got the silo to look at.” She grimaced, and two deep dimples appeared in her plump cheeks. “I’ve really got the worst room of all. The walls are just like cardboard, and I’m right next to the General’s room. He’s moving around until all hours, so it’s a wonder I get any sleep at all. And I’m the one who always has to get up first, too.”
“You all call your father the General?” asked Haley.
“Oh, after the war, everybody around here called him that, and we just kind of picked it up, too. My sister Hope says it’s because he’s more like a general than a father, but that’s just some of her mean smartiness. Nobody ever had a better daddy than we do.” She nodded twice in affirmation of her statement.
“I would like to hang a picture over my bed,” said Haley. “Would it hurt anything if I drove a nail in the wall?”
“Oh, I guess it would be all right, if you’d be very careful not to crack the plaster. But that’s for the General to say, of course,” said Annie. “You can ask him when you meet him at suppertime. He ought to be in a pretty good mood, because he figures he’s got Caesar and Delores licked.”
“More cousins?” Haley asked abstractedly. He was examining a framed photograph, which had been swathed in a pair of flannel pajamas in the heart of his suitcase.
Annie chuckled appreciatively. “Maybe you’ll think they look like cousins when you see them tomorrow,” she said. “Caesar and Delores are the horses who pull the wagon. They ran away with a load last week, and tore up the vegetable garden before they finally came up against a fence. The General’s out today, trying some new bits that look like bicycle chains with saw-teeth along one edge. He says if those two get fancy with him again, he’ll saw their heads off before they can run ten yards.” She seemed to relish the picture. “That’s why he wasn’t here to welcome you this afternoon,” Annie explained. “He’s out driving the team himself, to make sure they know who’s boss now. Ordinarily, he only goes out and works on D-days.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know about D-days,” said Haley politely.
“Didn’t I explain all about that? Well, you would have seen all about it on the bulletin board anyway. Tuesdays and Thursdays are D-days, which means that everybody, including Kitty, Hope, and the General, has to go out and work a full day on the farm. Won’t make much difference to you, I guess. I understand you’re going to be working a full week. The only difference on D-days will be that you’ll be on D-squad instead of C-squad. D-squad is the General, the two girls, you, and Mr.
“In many ways, Haley, this is the nicest room in the house, even though it is little and has only one window,” said Annie Cooley, a woman in her middle twenties. She sat on the edge of the cot, her heavy legs crossed, and watched her sixteen-year-old cousin unpack his small suitcase. “The view of the elm grove and the duck pond is very good, and you’ll have a lot of more privacy than any of us, in this end of the house.”
Haley Brandon arranged his three white shirts in one corner of a deep bureau drawer, and nodded absently at the end of each of Annie’s sentences. He was tired after a fitful night aboard a railroad coach, and glad that Annie was content to talk on and on without calling upon him to contribute to the conversation. She was a complete stranger to him, and not a very interesting-looking one at that. He would not have known what to say to her, if it had been up to him to lead the talking. He was something less than adept at making new friends quickly, he thought uncomfortably. He glanced out of the window. Not even the land was remotely reminiscent of anything he had seen before.
“Now you take Kitty and Hope,” Annie continued, referring to her younger sisters, “their windows look right out on the new hog barn and the tool shed, and I’ve got the silo to look at.” She grimaced, and two deep dimples appeared in her plump cheeks. “I’ve really got the worst room of all. The walls are just like cardboard, and I’m right next to the General’s room. He’s moving around until all hours, so it’s a wonder I get any sleep at all. And I’m the one who always has to get up first, too.”
“You all call your father the General?” asked Haley.
“Oh, after the war, everybody around here called him that, and we just kind of picked it up, too. My sister Hope says it’s because he’s more like a general than a father, but that’s just some of her mean smartiness. Nobody ever had a better daddy than we do.” She nodded twice in affirmation of her statement.
“I would like to hang a picture over my bed,” said Haley. “Would it hurt anything if I drove a nail in the wall?”
“Oh, I guess it would be all right, if you’d be very careful not to crack the plaster. But that’s for the General to say, of course,” said Annie. “You can ask him when you meet him at suppertime. He ought to be in a pretty good mood, because he figures he’s got Caesar and Delores licked.”
“More cousins?” Haley asked abstractedly. He was examining a framed photograph, which had been swathed in a pair of flannel pajamas in the heart of his suitcase.
Annie chuckled appreciatively. “Maybe you’ll think they look like cousins when you see them tomorrow,” she said. “Caesar and Delores are the horses who pull the wagon. They ran away with a load last week, and tore up the vegetable garden before they finally came up against a fence. The General’s out today, trying some new bits that look like bicycle chains with saw-teeth along one edge. He says if those two get fancy with him again, he’ll saw their heads off before they can run ten yards.” She seemed to relish the picture. “That’s why he wasn’t here to welcome you this afternoon,” Annie explained. “He’s out driving the team himself, to make sure they know who’s boss now. Ordinarily, he only goes out and works on D-days.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know about D-days,” said Haley politely.
“Didn’t I explain all about that? Well, you would have seen all about it on the bulletin board anyway. Tuesdays and Thursdays are D-days, which means that everybody, including Kitty, Hope, and the General, has to go out and work a full day on the farm. Won’t make much difference to you, I guess. I understand you’re going to be working a full week. The only difference on D-days will be that you’ll be on D-squad instead of C-squad. D-squad is the General, the two girls, you, and Mr.
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