It was fun racing bareback across the marsh. The rising wind excited the horses, made them go faster, as if they wanted to be part of it. And it was fun to round up the mares and drive them down the spit of land, stopping just short of the sea. It was even fun arguing.
"Maureen, you got to do the pumping tonight."
"I don't either. I got to gather the eggs."
"All right, Miss Smarty, then you can just mend that chicken fence, too."
It ended by both of them repairing the fence and both taking turns pumping water. Afterward, they charged into the house, glowing and hungry.
Grandma promised an early supper of oyster pie. "And then," she said, "if you can trust me to keep watch on Misty, you can drive with yer Grandpa over to Deep Hole to the Reeds' house. Mrs. Reed's got a pattern I want to copy for our apron sale."
"I'll take ye up on yer offer, Idy," Grandpa agreed quickly. "It'll give me a chance to see how my herd's doin' up there on winter pasture."
But about that time odd things began to happen. A lone marsh hen came bustling across the open field toward the house. Paul saw her first. He was at the table in the sitting room, painting a duck decoy.