"Angry?"

"Just thinking . . . so to say."

"Oh." And she began to hum under her breath.

"I was just thinking," he said again.

Then, solemnly, he added, "about things."

"About you and me," he wound up finally.

When she offered him a penny for his thoughts, he said, "Well . . .
nothing."

"Dear me."

At his hard cluck the wagon swept forward. "You know what I was
thinking," he said.

"Do I?" asked Anna innocently.

"Don't you?"

"Perhaps."

So they went on through the dark, under the trees, to Milford. When
their little world, smelling of harness, came to a halt in front of the
drug store, they descended to quench their thirst with syrup, gas,
milk, and lard. Then, with dreamy faces, they made their way to the