"I don't know, Mama!"
Mama yanked the buggy whip from its holder and gave Dale a quick, sharp whack that made him fairly fly on up the road! It was the first time I'd ever seen Mama do that. She wouldn't let him slow down, not even when we got to the Goode place.
"Ain't we gonna stop and read none to Mister Malcolm?"
"No, hon. I've changed my mind."
"I want to play mumble-peg with Wallace! Mama, Wallace can throw mumble-peg knives better'n Wiley, or anybody!"
Mama didn't answer or say another word. She kept Dale trotting on, fast as he could go.
In a few more minutes we were going up the hill in front of our house. Dale started turning off the road to go to our wide gate, just like he always did, but Mama made him pull the buggy back into the sandy ruts.
"No, Dale, we need to go on up to the store!" She gave him another hard flip with the reins.
"We're going to Papa's store?"
"Yeah, hon. I've got to talk to your papa. But you won't even have to get out. When we get there, you can just sit in the buggy while I run in and speak to Papa a second."