"That ole scarecrow," she muttered to herself, "that there old scarecrow with that there ole uniform onto him, too!"
The sun was going slowly just beyond the farthest hill. The unreal light of the skies' reflected colors held over the yellow, waving tips of the corn field.
"Benny—," she called again. "Oh—Benny!"
And then she saw him coming toward her trudging up the hill.
She waited until he stood in front of her.
"Supper, Ben," she said. "Was you down in the south meadow where you couldn't hear me call?"
"Naw."
He was young and slight. He had thick hair and a thin face. His features were small. There was nothing unusual about them. His eyes were deep-set and long, with the lids that were heavily fringed.
"You heard me calling you?"
"Yes, maw."