“That’s that straw dust you’re stirring up there,” Pop answered.
“Stirring up?” I asked, and knew Pop was right. You just couldn’t fool Pop, I thought.
He stopped what he had been doing which was something or other way up at the other end of the barn, and called to me, “Next week, we’ll take you to the doctor and have him give you a test to see what makes you sneeze so much.”
“Some people sneeze a lot because of the rainy weather making so many different kinds of flowers and weeds grow so much and making so much pollen, maybe,” I yelled back in a tired voice.
Pop ignored my educational remark, and sent me up in the haymow to throw down some alfalfa for our Brindle cow. While I was up there, I stirred up the dust in the hay and sneezed three or four times real loud.
Just then Pop called up to me and said, “What’s the matter, Bill? Are you hurt?”—which made me feel foolish.
The sun was shining in through a crack in the barn and I peeped out like I nearly always do when I’m up there and looked around at the different things such as three rows of newly hoed potatoes in the garden. I could hardly believe my eyes, when I noticed that there were only three rows I’d hoed. It had seemed like seven.
Then my heart almost jumped into my mouth when I heard voices downstairs and one of them was Barry Boyland’s laughing voice. He and Pop were talking, and saying they were glad to see each other. I stopped in my tracks, and listened for all I was worth, and this is what I heard, “Well, Barry, we have to do something for him—he’s getting the hayfever so badly. Maybe the North would be good for him.”
And then Barry laughed the queerest sounding laugh I’d heard in a long time and said, “Sure, I understand. It’s the same story wherever I go—the boys of the Sugar Creek Gang are all sneezing pretty bad, all except Dragonfly, who is better this year than last—but his parents said he could go, too.” Then Pop and Barry laughed long and loud at each other like it was funny or something. But I didn’t care at all. I was so tickled inside.
Right away a terrible scream of happiness jumped up into my throat, and if I hadn’t stopped it, I’d have yelled even worse than I do when I’m yelling for our baseball team.... Oh boy, oh boy—another trip up North this summer, with all the gang going along!