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toward the hills. The sky was slate gray now; everything was dim. As the wagon turned, Dorothy saw something move beside the lane. Had it stood up? Its sleeves flapped. As it walked toward them, Dorothy saw it was a boy. He was whipping his wrist with a long dry blade of grass. As he neared the wagon, he doffed a floppy, shapeless hat.

    "Good evening, Mrs. Gulch, Mr. Gulch."

    "Good evening, Wilbur," said Aunty Em.

    "Mother saw you leaving this afternoon, so I thought I'd just set by the road till you came back along so I could hear the news."

    "I brought the news with me," said Aunty Em. "Wilbur, this is my little niece, Dorothy, come all the way from St. Louis to live with us. Isn't she the prettiest little thing?"

    "Sure is," said Wilbur. He had a long, slightly misshapen face, like someone had hit him, and he had a front tooth missing.

    "This is Wilbur F. Jewell, Dorothy, one of our neighbor's boys."

    "Hello," said Dorothy. Across the fields, there was a white house, with two windows, and an extension. "Is that your house?"

    "Yes indeed."

    "It's lopsided," said Dorothy.

    "Dorothy, this is Kansas, and in Kansas we take account of manners. The Jewells came here like your Grandfather Matthew and built that house themselves."

    "We should have built a new one by now," said Wilbur quietly.

    There was more chat. Some long-term trouble was spoken of: banks and payments. The smoke from Wilbur's house was blue and hung in the air like fog.

    "Tell your mother I'll be along as soon as I can," said Aunty Em, sounding worried. The neighbors parted. Wilbur walked backward, waving his hat.

    "Let's hope the rain don't wash the crops away," called Uncle Henry from the wagon.

    "Goodbye, Will!" called Dorothy. She liked the way he was put together, like a bundle of sticks.

    Aunty Em sat straight and still for a while, and then seemed to blow out as though she had been holding her breath. "Well!" she exclaimed. "Boy his age with nothing better to do than sit all day by the road like a scarecrow on a Sunday! What is his father thinking of?"

    "I reckon old Bob Jewell's giving up," said Uncle Henry. His voice went lower and quieter. "The land can break a man, Em."

    "Depends on the man," sniffed Aunty Em. She was pulling her hair again.

    Home came slowly toward them. Home was small and gray, a tiny box of even, unpainted planks of wood, with a large stone chimney and no porch, just steps. It nestled between two hills that reached from opposite directions into the valley. Dark twisted woodland reared up behind it. The barn sagged. Dorothy took account of manners and was silent. Toto began to bark over and over.

    Aunty Em covered her ears. "Dorothy, try to still your dog, could you?"

    "Ssh, Toto," said Dorothy. Deep in his throat, teeth slightly bared, Toto kept growling.

    There were fields, but tall marsh grass grew up among them, even in the drought.

    "Dorothy," said Aunty Em. "See that grass there? That marks a wallow. Now you must be careful of the wallows, whenever you see them. They're quicksand. Children disappear into them. There was a little girl who got swallowed up in the buffalo wallows and was never found again. So when you play, you go up those hills there."

    Dorothy believed in death. "Yes, Ma'am," she said very solemnly.

    Toto still growled.

    Hens ran away from the wagon as it pulled into the yard. Toto snarled as if worrying something in his mouth and then scrabbled over the running boards. "Wow wow wow wow!" he said, haring after the hens.

    The hens seemed to explode, running off in all directions. Aunty Em jumped down from the wagon, gathering up her gray skirts. She ran after Toto into the barn, long flat feet and skinny black ankles pumping across the hard ground.

    "That's going to get your aunt into a powerful rage," said Uncle Henry, taking the mule's lead.

    Inside the barn there were cries like rusty hinges and the fluttering of wings. Hens scattered back out of it, dust rising behind them like