every day the Lord sends. That’ll be something else for him. Cash is still trimming at the boards. “If there’s ere a thing we can do,” Cora says.
“Anse’ll let us know,” I say.
Anse don’t look at us. He looks around, blinking, in that surprised way, like he had wore hisself down being surprised and was even surprised at that. If Cash just works that careful on my barn.
“I told Anse it likely won’t be no need,” I say. “I so hope it.”
“Her mind is set on it,” he says. “I reckon she’s bound to go.”
“It comes to all of us,” Cora says. “Let the Lord comfort you.”
“About that corn,” I say. I tell him again I will help him out if he gets into a tight, with her sick and all. Like most folks around here, I done holp him so much already I can’t quit now.
“I aimed to get to it today,” he says. “Seems like I can’t get my mind on nothing.”
“Maybe she’ll hold out till you are laid by,” I say.
“If God wills it,” he says.
“Let Him comfort you,” Cora says.
If Cash just works that careful on my barn. He looks up when we pass. “Don’t reckon I’ll get to you this week,” he says.
“ ’Tain’t no rush,” I say. “Whenever you get around to it.”
We get into the wagon. Cora sets the cake-box on her lap. It’s fixing to rain, sho.