"Nor the Zoo with the animals, nor a store where they sell just flowers, nor the band?" I says.
"No," says she. "But he used to tell me, when he come up sometimes," she tacks on.
The sun kept coming out and going under. The trees moved pleasant and folks went hurrying by. It kind of come over me:
"Mis' Bingy," I says, "you ain't ever had anything in your whole life, and neither have I. And now it's the city!"
But she put her head down on the baby and begun to cry.
"I don't know what's going to become of us," she says. "It's awful."
I jumped up and stood on the grass and looked off down the street toward the city.
"And I don't know what's going to become of us!" I says. "Ain't it grand?"
I laughed, and whirled on my toe. A woman was going along the walk that cut through the grassy place where we was. She looked nice, like pictures of women.