Page:Scarlet Sister Mary (1928).pdf/48

 had stood beside Maum Hannah in the door while it announced the news of the plantation to the whole world: births, deaths, fires, accidents, each thing shaping its own wail. Now, Maum Hannah's persistent calling meant that her childhood was over. No more romping and laughing with the little children who were left at Maum Hannah's cabin while their mothers worked in the fields. No more playing with the funny little dolls she made for them out of peanuts and bits of cloth. She'd soon have a baby of her own to sew for. July's baby.

"May—e—e! Si May—e—e!" Maum Hannah called again.

Taking the three empty buckets, Mary filled them to the brim, one by one, then carefully putting one on top of her head, and taking the other two, one in each hand, she stepped quickly into the foot-worn path and walked up the hill toward home, as if she had no load at all.

At the top of the hill she turned to look back at the hazy blue world lying so far away over the river. July had been out there and had overcome all kinds of danger and seen all kinds of places, all kinds of women. He had been in great towns with long streets filled with big white houses, standing at the end of long ave-