Yeow, but it’ll be a long time. Won’t Miss Meredith be supprised to find us here ahead of everbody? It was my idee. She’ll think we’re purty smart.
Betty
How many’s comin’?
Lloyd
The whole class, I guess—’cept the Davis boy. It’ll be a nice day to picnic, won’t it? (He rises and goes away from her and looks out toward the Lake. Softly, then more and more ecstatic, like a prayer—) I alwys liked the Big Lake. I’ve come here many’s the time with Paw, when we’d went out to git some cattle. Miles and miles through the bilin’ heat, tongue clawin’ at yer mouth—a-eatin’ dust, mebbe we’d go. Dust bilin’ up and blindin’ you—a-gettin’ in yer mouth and eyes till you thought you couldn’t stand it. An’ then the dark woods here—briars a-clawin’ at yer legs and hands, rattlers a-hidin’ under the leaves mebbe, logs t’ make yer horses jump, and branches ye’d have t’ dodge. Then the lake—flowin’ wide out—plum over almost out o’ sight—a-settin’ thar in the sun like sump’n you never hoped t’ see! I’d alwys want t’ git off my horse and go down to the edge of it—and tech it—and look at it—a long time. But Paw ud alwys say, “Set thar a-gawkin’, you kid. We got to git back to the sawmill ’fore 2 o’clock,” or he’d say, “’Tother end o’ the Lake is dried up purty good, son. We could cross over thar ’stid o’ goin’ round by the section line.” (After a moment.) I ain’t never seen it like this, though. It’s purtier’n I ever seen it. And we c’n look at it ’s long’s we want to. And we c’n go out on it—in a boat—if they is a boat—
Betty (timidly)
Why don’t you come over here and set down by me?
Lloyd
Why don’t you come over here and look at the lake?
Betty