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We had also learned, and it served us well to remember, another of life's little maxims: Hell hath no fury like a Buxton mom disobeyed—except three of them together. We never did find that snake. «#> 43 <=£ Seuenty-Sitf 'cT/iowbones "Seventy-six trombones in the big parade, a hundred and ten cornets close behind. " the tune trailed off here, as it always did, to a hum, and from there to silence. I could never remember the end of the song, but it didn't matter, because both my aunt, whose hand I held, and my uncle bringing up the rear, were, as always at this point, laughing at the vision of "woes and woes" my pronunciation engendered.

All along his way doors were opening; all the residents of Buxton were on their porches calling across to each other as they watched his progress. " "That's the third automobile I've seen this month. " By the time he reached Flavius's laneway, William turned <=£ 59 «£ in like a man who'd been driving an automobile all his life, grinning from ear to ear in anticipation of his brother's reaction as he spun the wheel. He pulled smartly up to the barnyard gate, hauled back on the reins, shouting, "Whoa, there," and proceeded through the closed gate and into the barn before he thought of applying the brakes.

I could only vaguely remember when the youngest of them lived at home, and even my brother was so much older that I often felt I was an only child. But in Lucille's family there were enough children for a baseball team, with plenty of extras. Then there was the fact that, though Lucille's father was Black, her mother was white, and spoke with an accent which Lucille said was French. When she pronounced Lucille, which she insisted never be shortened to Lucy or Lou, the name took on a lovely foreign sound that we children could not wrap our Anglicized tongues around, no matter how we tried.