Mis' Sykes was equal to that, too.
"In the name of our whole town," she says to that young soldier, "we thank you for what you've done."
He just nodded a little, and nobody said anything more. And it came to me that most everything is more so than we most always suppose it to be.
When Mis' Toplady don't know quite what to do with a minute, she always brings her hands together in a sort of spontaneous-sounding clap, and kind of bustles her shoulders. She done that now.
"I motion I'll take charge of the refreshments," she says. "Who'll volunteer? I'm crazy to see what-all we've brought."
Everybody laughed, and rustled, easy. And I slipped over to the daughter, standing by herself by the fire-place.
"You take, don't you?" I ask' her.
"'Take?'" she says, puzzled.
"Music, I mean," I told her. (We always mean music when we say "take" in Friendship Village.)