When Papa finally got me home, he toted me straight to Mama. She grabbed me into her arms and held me tight, a long time. And, for the rest of the day, she let me sit in her lap. And Mierd let me hold her best doll in my lap. And Wiley gave me his blue marble, for keeps. Mama said it would take her a solid week to brush the leaves and matted tangles out of my hair. It didn't. By Friday morning, when my two brothers got home from that World War that had stopped, Mama had my braids looking fine again. Besides that, the briar scratches on my face were gone, and I had me some new shoes! But Clyde and Walker came rushing in with so many suitcases and sacks and presents and there was so much kissing and neck-hugging that I didn't even think to show them my hair or my lace-up shoes. While we were getting ready to have our big celebrating supper, Mama thought of nothing except fixing good stuff to eat. At least, that's the way she was talking. "I declare to my soul," she complained to me and Mierd and Clyde, "this supper table just ain't long enough or wide enough tonight!" "How come, Mama?" I climbed up into Clyde's lap so I could see the peach pickles and jelly Mama had put on the table. "I reckon, hon, I simply cooked too much. There'll be fifteen of us to eat—besides your Grandma Ming—so I knew it would take lots of vittles. But I've cooked more'n our old table can hold. Mierd, hand me the scuppernong pies. I can set both of them back in the safe for the time being." "Where're you gonna set the 'possum, Mama?" "It'll have to stay on the back of the stove till we can—" "Hot diggity! Look here, y'all!" Wiley was yelling so loud we couldn't hear what Mama was saying about the 'possum Black Idd had caught for my brothers. "Look at this knife Walker just gim'me! See, Mierd!" I jumped out of Clyde's lap to run with Mierd to the other end of the kitchen. I got to Wiley first, but Mierd squeezed herself in front of me. I couldn't see the knife till I darted around Papa and Dorris and the cook stove. Even when I got to the other side of Wiley's elbow, I couldn't tell how the knife was made because of the way he was holding it. "Lemme see!" Mierd shrieked. "No, Mierd! It'll cut you! Bandershanks, get your hands off! Quit that! Girls don't know how to handle pocket knives. 'Specially one with four blades!" "I know how just as much as you do!" "Mierd, you do not! Hot diggity, look at the middle blade! Old Wallace Goode will have a fit when he sees this!" "You'd better not take it to school." "Yeah, Walker, I've gotta take it to school! Wallace and all the rest of 'em will wanta see it! Just think! I'll be the only boy there with a pearl-handled knife! Clyde, what'd you bring me?" "Well, now, Wiley, I'll tell you. When I stopped in Little Rock the day before yesterday, I saw something that reminded me so much of you I just had to buy it." "What?"