一双新鞋(4)
“come in out of the sun. sit on the porch,” i said, surprised at the frankness of my command. “i’ll get you something to eat.” emotions had a etting mixed up these difficult days and i couldn’t trust mine, just as i couldn’t bear the shame-faced look of gratitude in his eyes. as i climbed the steps to the house, i became angry at myself, at my helplessness, at my empty cupboards, at the unrelenting drought, at the country.
i sliced a loaf of bread h my frenzied actions of guilt at offering him so little. arden, rinsing his shirt in one of the pails. i beckoned to him, left him my scanty offering, and returned indoors.
despite the draht. my flo to me in my sgled to my feet and found alice sitting at the kitchen table, her head and shoulders bo next irls ht confirmation that i understood her statement. “that means stockings and a decent pair of shoes, mama, and look at me!” she thrust out her feet in their dusty running shoes.
instinctively, i glanced at the old felt slippers i sent my young one to find .
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