"Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily. Her father—man of rock—had never needed her, whereas Hoddy, even if he did not love her, would always be needing her. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me.
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