"Oh, sugar, I'd forgotten you! You can crawl out now. Everything's all right. They'll take Ward to be locked up. Let's sing loud!"
We sang loud, but everything seemed all wrong.
Right in the middle of our song—at the part saying "Come adore on bended knee"—Doctor Elton came back inside, his cigar gone, his mouth drooping down at the corners. He was coughing.
"We let the fool outsmart us!" he whispered to Mister Shepherd. "He'd left his motor going. He made out like he wanted to raise the hood and show it to us. 'Stead of that, he jerked loose, jumped on the seat, and tore off down the road !"
"I hate to hear that!"
"Jodie and them are trying to head him off, but—" Doctor Elton started coughing again. "They're trying to head him off before he gets to the bridge, but they'll never make it. Saddle horses just aren't a match for these automobiles! I'd 've tried to help, but me and my mares have—" The doctor took another coughing spell. "We've simply had it for today."
I pulled on the teacher's coat sleeve. "Mister Shepherd, is Mister Ward gonna come back and steal me again?"
"Of course not! Come on, let's keep singing! Loud, Little Tree! Sing loud!"
In dreams that night I grew to be a great tree, tall and shining, with ten arms instead of two, each a strong branch bent down by gifts of gold and precious things. I stood on the banks of Rocky Head Creek, not far from the bridge.
One low-hanging limb, heavy with blue silk ties, had been propped up with walking sticks, while at my roots lay Papa's good Sunday-go-to-meeting hat. It, too, was big, as big as a barrel. In the middle of it a fat, fat goose had made her nest. And there she sat, hatching out popcorn balls and pennies by the hatful.