"Mrs. Bingy," I says, "do you honestly believe that?"
"No," says she, "I don't. But it's a terrible thing to own up to. I saw your Ma in Katytown."
"Oh!" I says. "How is she? She don't write. She just wrote once and put in a dollar chicken money."
"They think you'll be back yet," Mrs. Bingy says. "Your Pa says, 'Her place is here to home with her Ma. Her Ma's getting along in years now, and she needs her to home, and she'd ought to come back.'"
"Why don't the boys come back?" I says.
"Oh, they're working," Mrs. Bingy says, surprised.
"So am I," I says. "Mrs. Bingy! Do you think I ought to go back?"
She leaned forward and spoke it behind her hand.
"No," she says, "I don't. But it's a terrible thing to own up to."