Fiddle was handed over. She was rosy and round with her mother's blue
eyes. She wore a little buttoned hat of white piqué, with strings tied
under her chin.

"So," said Randy, after a moist kiss, "you are Fiddle-dee-dee?"

"Ess----"

"Who gave you that name?"

"It is her own way of saying Fidelity," Mary explained.

"Isn't she rather young to say anything?"

"Oh, Randy, she's a year and a half," Becky protested. "Your mother says
that you talked in your cradle."

Randy laughed, "Oh, if you listen to Mother----"

"I'm glad you're in time for the Horse Show," Mr. Flippin interposed,
"I've got a couple of prize hawgs--an' when you see them, you'll say
they ain't anything like them on the other side."

"Oh, Father----"

"Well, they ain't. I reckon Virginia's good enough for you to come back
to, ain't it, Mr. Randy----?"

"It is good enough for me to stay in now that I'm here."