Crowing roosters waked me. I rolled over and opened my eyes. What had happened to the top of our house? There wasn't any top! Just sky! Papa was right. He had been telling us for a long time that our roof was going to fall in if he didn't get good crops and build Mama a new house. Papa was 'shamed for Mama to have to live in an old dogtrot house built before the Civil War. The Civil War was Grandpa's war and it happened a long time ago, but we still talked about it. Now, for sure, Papa would build us a new house with a good top on it. Then I remembered! I didn't know where our house was! Nor Papa! Nor Mama! Grandpa, neither! I didn't even know where I was! I scrambled up from the pile of corn and ran outside. Right across the road stood a real house! With hound dogs on the porch. And a man. Chickens scratching in the yard. Smoke puffing out of the chimney. Everything a house is supposed to have! The dogs started barking at me. "Hey there! Com'ere!" The man had seen me too. As I ran toward him he made the dogs hush and yelled back at somebody inside: "Set another plate, Mattie! We've got a sorta ragged little visitor! With one shoe on!" He squatted down to look at me. "Bless your little heart! Com'ere, sugar! My, my! Mud and leaves and tatters! No tears, now! Wearin' one shoe's all right! Hon, I wear just one—all the time." The breakfast tasted good, and the man and lady talked to me a lot and said for me to just keep on eating—as long as I could swallow a bite. But I couldn't get down but two biscuits and jelly and some salt meat and a cup of milk. When I'd finished, the man said, "Now, little girl, try to tell us where you came from." "Outta the corn crib! And the woods!" The lady smiled at me. "We can see you've been down in the river bottom. Your little cloak is just tore all to pieces, and your hair's got leaves and sticks all through it." "Where was you at before you got to the woods?" "In the automobile." "Mattie, she must be from town. Sugar, do you live in Union City?" "No, sir." "I declare, I wish I knew who you are. Your folks must be wild by this time—you bein' lost all night. Try one more time to tell me who your pa is, sugar." "He's Papa!" "Yeah, I know. There must be some way to find out who you are." "I know who you are." "Who am I, sugar?" "Uncle Hiram!" "Lord, yeah! How'd you know?" "One of your legs is just a wood peg. And I see your fiddle! Right yonder on the wall!" "I'll be hanged!" "Jim-Bo says you can sure scald-a-dog!" "Jim-Bo? Jim-Bo Jones over at Drake Eye Springs? You know him?" "Yes, sir. He's Aunt Vic's baby."