Late in June...

One morning late in June she was startled at the washtub by a sudden darkening of the room. David was on the threshold. She knew something had happened.

"Come," he said abruptly. "I want to show you something." His voice shook with excitement.

She stripped the suds from her arms and dried her hands. David picked up the baby as heedlessly as if the baby were a bundle. He went up the path so quickly that Molly almost ran to keep up with him.

She saw nothing unusual. The wind was blowing, the wild grass rippling; no cloud was in the sky. The Svenson's sod shanty stood beside its shadow; dust followed Mr. Svenson's plow. Yellow specks of buildings were clustered at the town site and a smudge of dust blown against the skyline showed that men were working as usual on the railroad. David went with long strides toward the slough.

The coarse slough grass was taller than she; it rustled harshly along the narrow path. An earthy smell came from its roots, for here in the slough the creek spread and vanished into the soil, keeping it damp through the summer drought. She followed David out of the slough, and stood amazed. The wheat field's green stalks rose before her...

An old childhood favorite...

Young Pioneers

By Rose Wilder Lane