"I belong to a girls' club that
meets every day after school; in the Meth'dis' church. We got a
sure good school, too, good as any white school, up the road a
piece."
The Beechams said good-by to Pauline's family, who had become
their friends. Then they said good-by to Miss Abbott. That was
hard for Jimmie. He butted his shaven little head against Her
and then limped away as fast as he could.
The ride to Oystershell was exciting. Autumn had changed the
look of the land. "God has taken all the red and yellow he's
got, and just splashed it on in gobs," said Rose-Ellen as they
traveled toward the seashore.
"What I like," Dick broke in, "is to see the men getting in the
salt hay with their horses on sleds."
The marshes were too soft to hold up anything so small as a hoof,
so when farmers used horses there, they fastened broad wooden
shoes on the horses' feet. Nowadays, though, horses were giving
place to tractors.
The air had an increasingly queer smell, like iodized salt in
boiling potatoes. The Beechams were nearing the salt-water
inlets of the bay, where the tides rose and fell like the
ocean-of which the inlets were part.
The tide was high when they drove down from Phillipsville to the
settlement of Oystershell. The rows of wooden houses, the
oyster-sheds and the company store seemed to be wading on stilts,
and most people wore rubber boots.
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