I slipped from the room, and never told a soul even where I was going.

I fell over the shovel and couldn't find anything quick enough but my pocket to put the worms in, and I forgot my stringer.

At last, when I raced down the hill to the creek and climbed over the water of the deep place, on the roots of the Pete Billings yowling tree, I had only six worms, my apple sucker pole, my cotton cord line, and bent pin hook.

I put the first worm on carefully, and if ever I prayed! Sometimes it was hard to understand about this praying business.

My mother was the best and most beautiful woman who ever lived.