About to catch up another handful of pebbles, Mellie grimaced and refrained. He did not know how many pebbles he'd flicked from the upended pickle keg through the knothole and into the woodshed, but offhand he guessed there were at least four bushels, and he didn't even want to think about another one. Nor had he much of anything else to occupy his thoughts. His daughters, with a minimum of fuss and a maximum of efficiency, had all the farm tasks well in hand.
Mellie resumed his study of Glory, who had lain down in the sun but was not sleeping, and wondered if he should keep her tied up. She might go wandering, and there was no assurance that she'd be as lucky as Precious Sue. As everyone knew, the woods were just filled with all sorts of witches, and many of them were all bad.
Glumly Mellie pondered the probability that she'd break loose and go wandering even if he tied her (would anything ever go right for him?) when Glory sat up, tilted her head, and voiced a warning wail. A moment later, Harky Mundee appeared.
Mellie sat still, doing his best to conceal his amazement, for he'd have been no more completely astounded if Old Joe himself had appeared with the ghost of Precious Sue in hot pursuit. Obviously Harky was not seeking a fight, for he carried no fighting tools. But he certainly was not coming in peace; after Mellie's foul trick, the Mundees would never make peace with the Garsons. On the point of demanding that Harky state his business and be on his way, Harky forestalled him with:
"I come to ask can Melinda fetch Glory on another coon hunt tonight?"
For a moment Mellie felt as though he'd again been mule-kicked, this time squarely between the eyes. He blinked and recovered.
"I thought," he heard himself saying, "that you come to ask kin Melinda fetch Glory on another coon hunt tonight?"
"I did," Harky asserted.
A sudden suspicion pricked Mellie's mind. Boys were boys and girls were girls, and all things considered it was a very pleasing arrangement, and there was no harm whatever in a bit of smooching. But how come Harky Mundee, otherwise so very sensible, thought he could successfully blend that with a coon hunt? Or did he?
"You got notions 'bout that girl child of mine?" he demanded.