"Sit down and eat your breakfast, dear," said Cindy's mother.
Cindy ate her bacon and biscuits, but though ordinarily she was hungry as a starving wolf, this morning she had no appetite. Alec, usually the friendliest of people, seemed cold and withdrawn, almost a stranger. The gentle Mindy stared into the fire. Her face drawn, Mrs. Simpson kept her own thoughts. Jed Simpson, who had been staring into Oklahoma, turned to put his family at ease.
"Come now!" he said heartily. "This isn't a funeral! Today's the day the Simpsons get their own farm!"
"Why, of course," said Mrs. Simpson. "We must look at the good side."
But, though Jed and Ann Simpson could almost always reassure their family and each other, this time both sounded very uncertain. Try as they would, neither could be relaxed and comfortable. Because they couldn't, they could not make their children feel that way either.
"I'll clean up," Mrs. Simpson said.
She began to work furiously, washing each plate until it shone and then polishing it until it gleamed. She was trying to find in hard work forgetfulness of the uncertainty that lay ahead, and to some small extent she succeeded. For the third time in ten minutes, Jed Simpson looked at his watch.
"What time is it?" Alec asked.
"Twenty past nine," his father said.
He went off to look at Sunshine, and even the horse seemed tense and taut, as though she also felt the vast importance of this day. She had eaten her oats, but instead of paying any attention to her hay she trampled it as she shuffled about. Her head was high and constantly turning. She looked all about the camp and now and again turned to stare at Oklahoma, as though somehow realizing what was over there and what it meant.