The electric bulb over our bed was still swaying when I opened my eyes. It was evident someone had just switched it on. By the clock it was early morning. By the hole in the sky which was the open dormer window it was little beyond the murk of daybreak. I tore my eyes from sleep and sat up; Middle(1) was sitting up beside me blinking but calm. What churned the wonderment over and…
Topsy Tiddles was not anybody. She was not wrought in flesh and blood, but existed as a boat exists in fog… there, but hidden. It came with fearful ardent rushing, this idea of Small’s that she must say things, but she did not know how to. I don’t mean just talk. “Everyone with a tongue can do that,” Small told herself. “But I want to make my tongue and my heart work together.” …
At the back of our old home garden were two giant squares of orchard, one of pear, one of cherry trees, each square as big as a city lot. Between was a long, long asparagus bed, and there was spare land flanked by a gravel walk. This spare strip of earth was cut into the children’s gardens. Each child could do exactly what he liked in our own garden. It was unsupervised, the most…
