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Strawberry Girl
Strawberry Girl
Strawberry Girl
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Strawberry Girl

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

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The Newbery Medal–winning childhood classic of life on a Florida farm—part of the Regional series from the author of the Mr. Small picture books.
  Birdie and her family are trying to build a farm in Florida. But it’s not easy with the heat, droughts, and cold snaps—and neighbors that don’t believe in fences. But Birdie won’t give up on her dream of strawberries, and her family won’t let those Slaters drive them from their home!   This Newberry Medal–winning novel presents a realistic picture of life on the Florida frontier.   This ebook features an illustrated biography of Lois Lenski including rare images and never-before-seen documents from the author’s estate.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 27, 2011
ISBN9781453227534
Strawberry Girl
Author

Lois Lenski

In addition to illustrating the first four Betsy-Tacy books, Lois Lenski (1893-1974) was the 1946 Newberry Medal winning author of Strawberry Girl.

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Rating: 3.798039270588235 out of 5 stars
4/5

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    When I was a kid, I loved Lois Lenski's Indian Captive so much that it got checked out of the library about every three or four trips - and we visited biweekly. I always wanted to read other books of hers, especially Strawberry Girl because it was about a girl growing up in Florida and I have always had a lot of pride in my Floridian heritage, but whenever I got to the shelf with the L's, I always ended up picking Indian Captive again.I finally had an excuse to read Strawberry Girl last spring for an adolescent literature course assignment, wherein we had to read a Newbery Award winner and give a presentation. I hadn't thought about Lois Lenski in years, but browsing the list of titles, I was reminded by how often I had almost read Strawberry Girl as a kid, so I decided to finally do so. I really loved the book, though not as much as I like Indian Captive or another novel set on a Florida farm, Tangerine.Just the other day, I was picking through my books to give some to a friend's kids and decided to read this one again. It was a quick read, and I managed it during my breaks over only two days, but I feel that I have a much different response to it than when I read it last year. I still like it, but I noticed a lot more that struck me as being very "1940s children's book".The story can be summed up fairly simply: it's a slice of life sort of plot about two neighboring families in Polk County, Florida (as stated on page 75 in my copy) sometime between 1895 and 1902. The story begins with the Boyers moving into their new home, and it ends about a year later, with them having established a strawberry field and having received the profits from the first crop. The primary conflicts are between the Boyer family and the Slater family, who have lived in the same house for upwards of four generations and who are not very well pleased with the new way of farming that the Slaters have. Of course, at the end of the book, the Slaters have decided to give up their old ways and become more modern/civilized.I have to admit that both times I've read this book, I got really sad around the end, when the Slaters decide to give up being cowmen and fence in their land, on account of the phosphorous company building fences anyway and destroying the land in order to get to the phosphorous. Even though this is about events a century ago, it's very much like what's going on more recently with the enormous growth in Florida, which is making the wild bits fewer and farther between. I grew up down here and my mom's family were Crackers just like the Boyers and Slaters, and I have such a love for the wild bits of Florida. It's just so dang beautiful, all the Spanish swords and live oaks and gators and armadillos and everything. So the end of the book, with the foreshadowing of the development of the state that was already in full-swing by the time Lois Lenski wrote about it in 1945, just makes my heart near to breaking.Speaking of the development of Florida that goes on in the book, it's also the people who get civilized. I'm not sure that I'm so pleased with this aspect of the book, because it really plays up the stereotypes of Crackers. Not only do you get a really strong (and possibly off-putting, for some folks) written dialect whenever anyone speaks, but it's the family from up North who brings modernization and cleanliness and change (and even religion, for goodness sake) to the slow, lazy, ornery, and dirty folks from the South - even though the Northern family are poor farmers themselves, hailing from Marion County, Fla., via the Carolinas. One of the opening scenes has Birdie Boyer (the girl through whom the story is told) combing the Slater girls' hair - the Slater girls who had never seen a comb or mirror before in their lives! The final chapter has the schoolteacher correcting the children's speech even, which also bothered me, but then, I relished every use of "fixin" and "ary" and "studyin", because that's how my grandparents and their siblings talk, and though I grew up in a more urban area where the dialect has grown more like the standard US one, I find myself lapsing into those patterns when spending any time with my family.So I'm not at all happy with the general movement of the story, with the whole colonialization thing, to use one of the words I learned from literary criticism classes. But I love the descriptions of the region, and I love reading the dialect (though many won't), and I love that this is a book about rural Florida. I can't say how many books I read as a kid that took place up North or out West, but I don't think I found hardly any that had the South for their settings, much less Florida. So even though I'm not well pleased with the theme of the plot itself, I love this book, and I think I'm not going to keep it for a while yet.A note: the illustrations are more creepy than charming, looking through them again. Shoestring's face is so oddly drawn!
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Birdie moves to Florida with her family to build a farm, battling weather and neighbors opposing fences. With work and neighborly effort, Birdie’s family finally makes the strawberry crop into profits and settles things with the neighbors. The book contains descriptions of poor choices between the neighbors and the parents, as well as the strong dialect of the day. In Strawberry Girl, Lois Lensky painted a detailed picture of the lives of Floridians in the middle 1900’s. It is astonishing to realize that not so many years ago, people were still speaking so poorly and education level so low in so many areas of the United States. While the story accurately depicts the time, the dialect may cause many younger readers to stumble loosing much of the story. This is an excellent read-aloud and better for later elementary due to the feud and the dialect. The e-book contains an illustrated biography of Lenski and presents an old classic in a different format.Received Galley from NetGalley.com
  • Rating: 1 out of 5 stars
    1/5
    I loved this book as a child in the late 60s, and then re-visited it in my early 50s and was so let down.

    The level of animal neglect and abuse, the meaness, revenge, vindictive nature of the characters were a major turn off to me as an adult. I can't imagine why I loved it as a kid.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This is such a pleasant book, although, I am afraid if teachers and parents don't prepare their children for the dialect used in here, kids would have a hard time reading it. However, I think the dialect Lenski uses really makes the characters unique, and I think it also adds to the conflicts experienced between the Boyers and Slaters. This story always teaches the lesson of perseverance, and we see the frustrations of all of the characters when things don't always go smoothly. I plan on reading the rest of Lenski's series once I finish my first challenge of all the Newberry Awards! However, this book ranks right up there as one of the best Newberry Award winners.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    One of the most interesting things about this book is the information it provides about a place and time in American history. The writing includes regional dialect and word usage that might prove difficult at first, but gives an essential flavor to the story. I also enjoyed watching how enemies became friendly neighbors, just by doing what was right.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A classic that should be read by all ,this book provided a refreshing look back in time when right was right and wrong was wrong. Although today's children may need a little historical background before reading this book, it will provide a link to an important part of American history. It was very interesting to read of Lois Lenski's life as an illustrator and children's author.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    How could a child read this book and complain about her life in 21st century America? The two families in this book suffer from the ravages of grasshoppers, illness, hunger, and jealousy. They argue and fight with each other, eventually going so far as to kill each other’s animals and set fire to the other’s farmhouse. A hardscrabble life complete with rattlesnakes and alligators and swamps. Yet there was also a beauty to this life, of neighbors helping each other, even when they have little for themselves. Some unbelievable elements---an alcoholic dad suddenly stops drinking and a child who never seems to do anything worse than get a little mad now and then---but all in all a worthwhile read.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This book was wonderful.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    One of my favorite Girl Stories- and set in Florida, no less! Every time I hear someone called a "Cracker," I think of this book:
    Miss Liddy hurried over. "The Crackers are coming," she explained."Just cowmen with their cattle! Hear how they crack their long, rawhide whips. They're driving a big herd to market at Tampa, to ship to Cuba most likely. Probably came from way up yonder by Jacksonville, buyin' up beef cattle all along the way." She paused. "Folks born in Florida or who have lived here a long time are called Crackers- after the cowmen."
    "We're Crackers!" said Birdie proudly. "We was born in Marion County!"
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    I read this to my 6-year-old daughter. She really enjoyed the views into the past-- what life was like for little girls. The dialect was fun too. I brought out my best Southern voices and she had fun correcting their grammar. The story has a nice moral to it as well-- try to get along with people, fueding will never end. Too bad that in the real adult world the solutions are not as simple in as they are in this book.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This story is about a 10 year old girl and her family trying to fix up and old home. The family is growing sweet potatoes, strawberries and oranges. The girl plants her own orange tree, and the family is growing other things so the can make a good living. But their neighbors doesn't think that growing fruit will work and they suggest to have cattle and to feed and sell them. None of them wear shoes they are farmers. And Birdies orange tree has been eatn on and her strawberries have been destroyed, so she ask her Pa if they can build a fence around everything. The boy that is named Shoestring thinks he is really smart, but Birdie doesn't like him. The kids went to school and met all the other kids. Shoestrings older brothers like to cause trouble plus the Slater boys ended up fighting the teacher and beating him up, and their won't be any school now for awhile. The family went to town and bought a new stove and Dan no longer has a toothache thanks to the town dentists. Summer was over and it was now time for cane grinding. Everyone comes for the cane grinding they have music and a bonfire. The fence had been cut and the strawberries had been damaged again. Birdies Ma had tricked Sam Slater by putting flour on the strawberries and they thought that it was poison. The orange tree had done really good. The family is a strawberry family. During strawberry season the schools were known as strawberry schools. The family picked strawberries twice a week. The Slater family doesn't like the Birdies family and their mule ended up getting poisoned. Now there was a grass fire and the school burned down. Mr Slater drinks all the time and that made it really hard on their family. Shoestring had to get Mrs Boyer because his Ma was sick. And the preacher came by and was hungry and when they eat the kids didn't eat with the adults. Sam Slater came back from where he went and he was very glad that the Boyer family took care of his wife. Sam Slater was a changed man. Now shoestring is going back to school when it gets rebuilt, and when Birdie got home from school she saw a organ sitting there something that she has always wanted. Personal reaction: I enjoyed this book very much, It was difficult at first because of the way they talked. But i did enjoy reading it.Classroom Extension: I could ask the kids if they had nice neighbors and if they got along with them. Also, I could ask if the kids could do what the people did in this book.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    1946 Newberry winner about the Boyer family, who move from the Carolinas to rural Florida and buy a farm. They immediately begin to feud with their neighbors, the Slaters, a poor, rural family with a drunken, domineering father and rowdy, disrespectful children. The Slaters run their cattle and hogs over the Boyer property, destroying strawberry plants and the orange grove. Mr. Boyer retaliates by killing some hogs, and the feud continues. Of course everything works out in the end. I liked the descriptions of rural life and farming, and understood the anger of the Boyers family towards the Slaters, who so quickly destroyed the things they worked so hard to grow.

    Spoiler alert: I didn't enjoy the fact that the drunken Slater father was saved so quickly by the self-righteous, gluttonous preacher who ate all of the family's chicken, leaving none for the hungry children.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Well, I reckon I should write this hyar piece in dialect, 'cause that's how Miz Lenski done wrote her book. But I ain't likely to do half a good a job as she's done. Oh, well. If I had to give a one line description of "Strawberry Girl", I'd say that it is a PG-rated 'Little House on the Prairie'". "Strawberry Girl" tells the tale of a pioneer family of sorts, except that the Boyer family is settling in the wilds of Florida in the early 1900s. Other families have already settled there and a town is well established, but the country is still undeveloped and there are many improvements the family can make to their land and their lifestyle. What makes it different from "Little House" is that there's an edge to the "bad guys", especially the Boyer's closest neighbors. While the story is still rather tame by modern standards, Ms. Lenski honestly shows that everyone has their dark side, be it the drunken neighbor or Pa Boyer. Anyway, it's a nice peek into a part of our American heritage, one that I suspect has long past. My wife tells me that this book is part of a series of regional tales, most of which are out of print. She thinks somebody should remedy that, real soon now. Based on "Strawberry Girl", I'd have to agree. Like this one, I wouldn't mind checking them out.--J.
  • Rating: 1 out of 5 stars
    1/5
    Some books, like Little House in the Woods, are ageless. I don't think this is of the same caliber - I stopped reading it about 1/3 of the way thru.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    First and perhaps foremost, I'm not particularly a fan of Lenski's illustrative style. Her people just don't work for me, and never really have. That aside, the story is interesting and vivid but not compelling. There's a lot of what feels like exposition for exposition's sake. I remembered liking this until I picked it up again, then I remembered that I didn't much like it.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Really good book. Especially Strawberry Lovers
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Near the turn of the 20th century, 10-year-old Birdie Boyer's family buys a vacant farm in Florida's lake district. Birdie's father plans to grow strawberries and ship them north. Each family member must do a share of the work. They face several setbacks, particularly from their antagonistic neighbors, the cattle-raising Slaters. Through her parents' example and her own experience, Birdie learns how to react to adversity, how to manage conflict, how to cooperate toward a common goal, and the importance of values like kindness, hospitality, and forgiveness. I might hesitate to give this book to young readers who struggle with spelling since the story is dialogue heavy in a regional dialect with non-standard spelling. Otherwise, it's an inspirational story that will appeal to fans of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Rounded up from at least 3-1/2 stars. It's very good but if you're very far from the target age group you might need to have a particular interest in children's lit to think as highly of it as I did.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    In some ways, the piney woods of Florida is just as wild as the Wild West. Birdie Boyer's family is determined to make a go of strawberry farming, but they will have trouble not only with the hazards presented by the natural world, but also resistance from a cantankerous neighbor.This book reminded me strongly of the Little House books, both in content and in writing style. Characters speak in the vernacular, which may present a challenge for some readers. The ending seemed rather deus ex machina to me. Still, I would probably recommend this to readers of all ages who can't get enough frontier fiction.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I thoroughly enjoyed this well-researched story about poor farmers living in early 1900s Florida.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    I scarcely remember this book. It sounds edgy from the reviews...

Book preview

Strawberry Girl - Lois Lenski

PROLOGUE

Trouble

THAR GOES OUR COW, Pa! said the little girl.

Shore ’nough, that do look like one of our cows, now don’t it?

The man tipped his slat-backed chair against the wall of the house. He spat across the porch floor onto the sandy yard. His voice was a lazy drawl. He closed his eyes again.

She’s got our markin’ brand on her, Pa. A big S inside a circle, said Essie.

The man, Sam Slater, looked up. Shore ’nough, so she has.

She’s headin’ right for them orange trees, Pa, said Essie.

Them new leaves taste mighty good, I reckon, replied her father. She’s hungry, pore thing!

A clatter of dishes sounded from within the house and a baby began to cry.

You’d be pore, too, did you never git nothin’ to eat, said the unseen Mrs. Slater.

There was no answer.

The sun shone with a brilliant glare. The white sand in the yard reflected the bright light and made the shade on the porch seem dark and cool.

She might could go right in and eat ’em, Pa, said the little girl. Her voice was slow, soft and sweet. Her face, hands and bare legs were dirty. At her feet lay some sticks and broken twigs with which she had been playing.

Pa Slater did not open his eyes.

Pa, Essie went on in a more lively tone, iffen that cow laps her tongue around the new leaves, she’ll twist the bark loose and pull it off. Do we not stop her, she might could eat up all them orange trees.

The man spat, then resumed his dozing position. I don’t reckon so, he said slowly.

Iffen she goes in that orange grove, them new folks will …

The legs of the man’s chair came down on the porch floor with a thump. He opened his eyes. What new folks?

Them new folks what moved in the ole Roddenberry house, said Essie.

New folks in that big ole house? Who tole you? His staring gray eyes fixed themselves on the pale blue ones of his daughter.

Jeff done tole me, said Essie. Although she was only seven, she was not afraid of her father. They been here most a month already. They come in a big wagon. They moved in while you was away, Pa. We watched ’em unload.

You did, eh? growled Pa Slater. You let ’em see you?

No. Essie smiled knowingly. We hid in the palmettos, Pa. We got us a tunnel to hide in.

Her father grinned back at her. Who be they?

Jeff says …

Mrs. Slater, within, interrupted. Name’s Boyer. The man’s a Caroliny feller.

Why ain’t you done tole me?

’Cause you been gone away for so long.

Got kids? asked Slater.

Regular strawberry family, jedgin’ from the size of it—six or seven young uns, I reckon.

Mrs. Slater’s reply was followed by the clatter of dishes and the crying of the baby. A smaller girl, about five, came out and climbed up on her father’s lap.

They got a gal … began Essie. She looked at her father’s frowning face and paused. In her mind she carried a bright picture of the new Boyer girl whom she hoped to have for a friend. She did not want it spoiled.

Pa, our cow’s done gone in their grove, she said again. I’ll go chase her out. She started down the steps.

You come right back here and set down, young un, called Slater. Let that cow go where she’s a mind to. He tipped his chair back again lazily and closed his eyes.

She might hurt them orange trees, ventured Essie, and make trouble for us, Pa.

Then they’ll know they got neighbors! Pa spat, and a wide grin spread over his face.

Trouble! he added softly. You mighty right, gal young un. That skinny little ole cow’s jest bound to make trouble!

CHAPTER I

Callers

IT WAS A BRIGHT morning in early April. Birds were chirping and singing in the shady trees. A barelegged ten-year-old girl came out on the front porch. She watered the plants in the lard buckets there. She picked off a dead leaf or two.

Ma! she called. The pink geranium’s a-bloomin’. Come see it. Hit shore is purty!

Mrs. Boyer came out, drying her hands on her apron.

Come down here, Ma, and look, begged the girl.

The woman came down the steps and stood at her side. The girl’s brown hair was braided in two braids, looped up. Her eyes were big in her pointed face. She looked much like her mother.

Ain’t them right purty, Ma? I jest got to come out first thing in the mornin’ and look at ’em.

Purty, yes! agreed her mother. But lookin’ at posies don’t git the work done. She hurried back up the steps.

Did I get some blue paint and paint the lard buckets, Ma, they’d look a sight purtier, wouldn’t they?

Blue lard buckets! laughed the woman. Never heard of sich as that! She disappeared in the house.

The girl took up a long broom made of brush—branches from a tree—and swept the yard clean. Its hard smooth surface felt good to her feet. Then she knelt in the path and began to set a row of bricks at an angle, to make a neat border. I’ll plant my amaryllis bulbs in the flower bed right here, she said to herself.

She stood up, her arms akimbo.

Land sakes, somebody’s comin’! she called. Ma! Callers!

Law me! cried Mrs. Boyer, peeping out. The Slaters! And my breakfast dishes not done.

The girl stared at the little procession.

Mrs. Slater, tall, thin and angular, carrying her baby like a sack of potatoes on her hip, was followed by the two little girls, Essie and Zephy. Some distance behind, as if curious yet half-unwilling to be one of the party, came a lanky twelve-year-old boy wearing a broad-brimmed black felt hat. The woman and children plowed the loose, dry sand with their bare feet. With each step forward, they seemed to slip a trifle backward, so their progress was slow. Bushy scrub oaks and a thicket of palmetto grew on the far side of the rough path, while a forest of tall pines rose in the distance.

The old Roddenberry house was not old enough to deserve to be called old. It had been built in the 1880’s, the earliest type of Florida pioneer home. Deserted by the Roddenberrys after the Big Freeze of 1895, it had stood empty for some years, but showed few signs of neglect. The sturdy pine and cypress wood which had gone into its making were equal to many more years of Florida sun, rain, wind and heat.

The house was a simple one, but by backwoods standards a mansion. It was a double-pen plank house, with an open hall or breezeway in the middle. On one side was a bedroom, on the other the kitchen. Behind were two small shed rooms used for sleeping quarters. Wide porches spread across front and back.

The Slaters approached the picket fence timidly, staring with all eyes. Mrs. Slater opened the gate.

Howdy!

The girl in the path spoke first.

Hey! came the feeble response.

The girl tipped her head and smiled. My name’s Birdie Boyer, she said. Come in and see Ma.

She led the way onto the front porch and across the breezeway. The boy did not come in.

Can I borrow a cup o’ sugar, ma’am? inquired Mrs. Slater.

Shore can! said Mrs. Boyer heartily. Ary time you need somethin’, you call on me and welcome. That’s what neighbors is for. Mighty nice to be near enough for neighborin’.

They sat down stiffly. An awkward silence fell.

We had sich a heap o’ work to do, to git this ole place fixed up, began Mrs. Boyer. We ain’t what you might call settled yet. Them Roddenberrys …

They got froze out in the Big Freeze, said Mrs. Slater. They went back to wherever it was they come from. All their orange trees got bit back to the ground by the frost. Ain’t no use messin’ with oranges here. Hit’s too cold in the wintertime.

But the trees were seedlings, said Mrs. Boyer, and they’ve come up again from the roots. When we git ’em pruned good and the moss cleaned out, they’ll make us a fine grove.

I got me a orange tree, said Birdie, ’bout so high. She raised her hand to a height of about three feet. I planted a bunch of seeds from an orange once. This seedling was the strongest—it come from the king seed. We brung it along with us and I planted it where the water drips from the pump. Soon I’ll be pickin’ my own oranges!

Yes, soon we’ll be pickin’ oranges to sell, added her mother.

To sell? asked Mrs. Slater in surprise.

Yes, ma’am. We’re studyin’ to sell oranges and strawberries and sweet ’taters and sich and make us a good livin’.

Sell things? Messin’ with things to sell? said Mrs. Slater. Then you’ll purely starve to death. Why, nothin’ won’t grow here in Floridy. The only way we-uns can git us a livin’ is messin’ with cows and sellin’ ’em for beef.

We’re studyin’ to always have us a few cows too, and cowpen the land. We git real benefit from our cattle, usin’ ’em for beef and fertilizer, and for milk and butter too, said Mrs. Boyer.

Why, them scrubby little ole woods cows don’t give enough milk to bother with milkin’ ’em, laughed Mrs. Slater.

Where we come from, said Mrs. Boyer slowly, "we feed our cows."

Feed ’em! Mrs. Slater laughed a shrill laugh. With all the grass they is to eat? Where you folks come from anyway?

We come from Marion County last month, said Mrs. Boyer. We come there in a covered wagon from Caroliny ’bout ten year ago.

Silence fell. Mrs. Slater’s girls stared, tongue-tied, at the new girl.

What’s the matter with ’em, ma’am, they don’t talk? Birdie asked their mother.

Ain’t nothin’ the matter with ’em but meanness, snapped Mrs. Slater.

Birdie took the little girls by the hand and led them out to the back porch. Here, her little brother, aged two, was playing in the water in the basin on the wash-shelf. A comb hung by a string from the porch post.

What’s that? asked Essie, pointing.

What—this? Why, a comb! exclaimed Birdie. Lemme comb out your hair.

We ain’t got us a comb, but Ma uses a shucks brush sometimes, said Zephy.

The two little girls sat down on the top step. Birdie began to comb out their short, straggly hair. Combed smooth, it looked soft and pretty, curling up at the ends. In the bright sunshine, it shone like warm, glistening silver. Birdie brought the washbasin and washed their thin, pale faces. Their features were fine, their eyes blue as cornflowers.

What’s his name? asked Essie, pointing to the little brother.

Robert, but we call him Bunny, said Birdie. We all got us pet names. My big brother’s name’s Bihu, same as Pa, so we jest call him Buzz. My other brother’s Daniel Alexander or jest plain Dan. My big sister’s Dixie Lee Francine—we call her Dixie. My little sister’s Dovey Eudora—we call her Dovey or Dove—she’s asleep now. Me—I’m Berthenia Lou, but Pa calls me Birdie, ’cause he says I look like a little bird. Sometimes he calls me his little wren.

The lanky boy had ventured round the house and now stood staring.

"What’s your name?" asked Birdie.

Jefferson Davis Slater, he said gruffly.

Purty good name, said Birdie.

All but the Slater, said the boy, biting his lips.

Was he ashamed of his family? Birdie wondered. What they call you—Jeff?

Naw. Shoestring—’count of I’m so long and thin. Never couldn’t git no fat to my bones.

Shoestring!

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