Bud held his tongue, but it was plain he was not convinced.
“What makes him so contrary, I wonder?” said the girl later.
“He’s jealous,” said Mrs. Allison calmly, “because you champion th’ stranger. It’s natural.”
The field of corn was beautiful.
Its blades were broad and satiny, covering the brown earth from view, and the waving green floor came well up along the horses’ legs as Nance rode down the rows on the shackly cultivator.
For three days she had been at it, a labor of love. She had many dreams as she watched the light wimpling on the silky banners, vague, pleasant dreams that had to do with her cancelled debt at the store, with the trip to Bement about the carpet, and with the new blue dress she hoped to get with the surplus.
Bud must have some new things, too, and her Mammy needed shoes the worst way.
All these things the growing field promised her, whispering under the little wind, and she was happy deep in her innocent heart.
She wondered if she dared ask Brand to let her take Sonny on that trip to Bement, then instantly decided she should not.
There might be someone from Nameless in the town, and Brand was particularly insistent on his staying out of sight.