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she didn’t do nothing bad. And I just got to talk to her on account of it’s Thanksgiving.” I sobbed so hard I don’t know how she figured out what I said.
    “What’s your name, child?” she asked, real gentle-like.
    “Lydia.”
    “Well, Lydia, I wish I could connect you, but I can’t. I want you to listen to me, dear. You’ve saved thirty-seven cents. That’s a lot of money. It won’t be today, but you keep saving your money. You sound like a smart girl who has been really strong. I know you’ll be able to talk to your mother soon. I want you to know, though, that you should plan to save at least a dollar. It will probably take them a while to get your mother to the phone before you can start talking. Now, are you going to be okay?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” I said, choking out the words, but I weren’t too sure.
    “All right, Lydia. I’m going to disconnect now. You take good care of yourself. I know your mother would want that.”
    “Thank you, Operator,” I said as I hung up the receiver. Then I sat down on the steps of the store and had myself a good cry.
    After all them tears got pushed out of my eyes, I thought about what the operator said—that I sounded strong. Anne of Green Gables stayed real strong when she had to take care of them twins by herself. But I ain’tstrong. I feel all mushy inside. That operator sounded awful nice, but she don’t know nothing about me being so weak. I expect everbody would be ashamed of me, including Mama and that operator, iffen they saw me blubbering like a baby.
    Well, as Gran always used to say, there ain’t no use crying over spilled milk. I knowed I would have to go back to Uncle William’s house afore they missed me. I wiped my eyes real good with the sleeve of my sweater and stood up. “I’m just going to have to make me some more money,” I said out loud as I started up walking.
    When I got back to the house, I peeked in on my uncle and aunt. They still sat on the couch, sound asleep. I went out on the back porch to set a spell in the creaky swing so’s I could think. When we found out about BJ being sick, Gran said God would make us strong. I had plumb misremembered about that.
    It seems like a long, long time ago. When we got back from church that Sunday, we laid BJ down for a nap.
    He acted all better when he woke up. He weren’t sweaty no more either. We sure felt mighty relieved. Mama and Gran put dinner on the table, and I bounced BJ on my knees.
    “Buttermilk, buttermilk, trot, trot, trot
.
    Spill the buttermilk, every drop, drop, drop!”
    On the last
drop
, I’d stick my feet out and BJ would slide down my legs. He’d always sparkle with a gigglewhen I done that. Excepten this time when he giggled, he commenced to coughing real hard. “Mama,” I said. “What’s wrong with him?”
    Mama put her hand on his forehead. “He’s a little warm now, but not too bad,” she said. “Still, that’s a mighty nasty cough.” She turned to look at Gran. “Do you think he might have a case of the croup?”
    Gran felt his forehead and shook her head, all puzzled-like. “I’m going to fix him up a mustard plaster. Iffen that don’t take care of the cough, I think we best get Doc Smythson in the morning.”
    I put my pinkie close to BJ. He wrapped his little hand around it like he wouldn’t never let go. “It’s okay, little man,” I told him. “You’re going to be just fine.” But I knowed it was something real bad. Gran didn’t never ask to get Doc Smythson. She liked to fix folks up herself. And she liked to fix kinfolks most of all.
    The next day, Doc Smythson comed to the cabin and checked BJ over from head to toe. Gran said, “Lydia, tell him what you noticed about BJ at church.”
    I felt real growed up being asked to talk to the doctor. I told him all about figuring out about BJ being sick. Doc studied me for a time. Then he looked back at BJ. “I think we need to run some tests at the hospital,” he said.
    So Mama and BJ went