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“Yes, Aunty, wait a minute, Aunty!”

“You come right on here this minute, we’re goin’!”

“You haveto wait, Aunty!”

Her father was coming along the edge of the fig trees.”Hurry up, Baby, you’ll get left!”

Miranda felt she couldn’t bear to be left. She ran all shaking with fright. Her father gave her the annoyed look he always gave her when he said something to upset her and then saw that she was upset. His words were kind but his voice scolded: “Stop getting so excited, Baby, you know we wouldn’t leave you for anything.” Miranda wanted to talk back: “Then why did you say so?” but she was still listening for that tiny sound: “Weep, weep.” She lagged and pulled backward, looking over her shoulder, but her father hurried her towards the carry-all. But things didn’t make sounds if they were dead. They couldn’t. That was one of the signs. Oh, but she had heard it.

Her father sat in front and drove, and old Uncle Jimbilly didn’t do anything but get down and open gates. Grandmother and Aunt Nannie sat in the back seat, with Miranda between them. She loved setting out somewhere, with everybody smiling and settling down and looking up at the weather, with the horses bouncing and pulling on the reins, the springs jolting and swaying with a creaky noise that made you feel sure you were traveling. That evening she would go wading with Maria and Paul and Uncle Jimbilly, and that very night she would lie out on the grass in her nightgown to cool off, and they would all drink lemonade before going to bed. Sister Maria and Brother Paul would already be burned like muffins because they were sent on ahead the minute school was out. Sister Maria had got freckled and Father was furious.”Keep your bonnet on,” he said to Miranda, sternly.”Now remember. I’m not going to have that face ruined, too.” But oh, what had made that funny sound? Miranda’s ears buzzed and she had a dull round pain in her just under her front ribs. She had to go back and let him out. He’d never get out by himself, all tangled up in tissue paper and that shoebox. He’d never get out without her.

“Grandmother, I’ve got to go back. Oh, I’ve gotto go back!”

Grandmother turned Miranda’s face around by the chin and looked at her closely, the way grown folks did. Grandmother’s eyes were always the same. They never looked kind or sad or angry or tired or anything. They just looked, blue and still.”What is the matter with you, Miranda, what happened?”

“Oh, I’ve got to go back — I forg-got something important.”

“Stop that silly crying and tell me what you want.”

Miranda couldn’t stop. Her father looked very anxious.”Mammy, maybe the Baby’s sick.” He reached out his handkerchief to her face.”What’s the matter with my honey? Did you eat something?”

Miranda had to stand up to cry as hard as she wanted to. The wheels went grinding round in the road, the carry-all wobbled so that Grandmother had to take her by one arm, and her father by the other. They stared at each other over Miranda’s head with a moveless gaze that Miranda had seen often, and their eyes looked exactly alike. Miranda blinked up at them, waiting to see who would win. Then Grandmother’s hand fell away, and Miranda was handed over to her father. He gave the reins to Uncle Jimbilly, and lifted her over the top of the seat. She sprawled against his chest and knees as if he were an armchair and stopped crying at once.”We can’t go back just for notions,” he told her in the reasoning tone he always talked in when Grandmother scolded, and held the muffly handkerchief for her.”Now, blow hard. What did you forget, honey? We’ll find another. Was it your doll?”