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nowine nor strong drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit!”
    As if by a miracle from God himself the appalling music from The Beer Barrel ceased, and the triplets took advantage of the moment by singing “Mansion over the Hilltop” in three-part harmony. They sounded good enough to be on the radio, and people were obviously impressed, as they gave the girls a round of applause, whistles, and hoots.
    â€œGo now and sin no more!” Bonnie Clare said, dismissing the crowd.
    But alas, as the sisters stepped down off the pop crates, most of their congregation filed into The Beer Barrel. Peter struggled with Bird to keep him from following the crowd.
    Ruby introduced everybody, and the triplets all spoke at once, which was their habit. It saved time.
    â€œWe’re pleased to meet you,” from Bonnie Clare.
    â€œWe heard about y’all moving here,” from Sunny Gaye.
    â€œDon’t you have some brothers, Peter?” from Connie Lynn.
    Peter scratched his head. He had heard only Connie. “Yeah, Cedar, Jeeter, and Skeeter.”
    He paused for the usual comment about the names, but the duplicates didn’t say anything else. They just peered up at him with their six violet eyes, waiting for more.
    â€œMy mama loved to make things rhyme,” he explained. “She was a poet in her last life.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œIn her last life?”
    â€œCome again?”
    â€œWell, my mama believed that life is a school,” Peter explained, “and when we don’t learn the lessons placed before us, we have to come back and repeat the grade. But if we do learn what we’re here to learn, then we are promoted to the next grade. That’s where she is now—in the next grade.”
    The triplets were too astonished to react. So was Ruby, but she also felt giddy. Here was a new card turned up!
    â€œWe have a little sister, too,” Peter continued. “By the time Rita came along, Mama had run out of rhyming names, so she had to settle for a tongue twister.”
    â€œWe’re having a baptism tomorrow,” Bonnie Clare informed him.
    â€œDown at Deep Creek,” Connie Lynn said.
    â€œAnd we think you need baptizing real bad,” added Sunny Gaye.
    But Peter was rescued from more evangelizing at that moment when somebody put another nickel into the beastly jukebox. He threw up a hand to the triplets and moved on with Ruby and Bird.

9
    S LIM M ORGAN WAS STANDING IN FRONT OF HIS PARENTS ’ drugstore with a camera.
    â€œY’all pose for me, and I’ll take your picture!” he called to Ruby, Peter, and Bird.
    Actually Slim was not slim but rather pudgy. His hair was golden, his eyes a sparkling brown, and his nose freckled. No boy in town was better-looking or better-liked than the thirteen-year-old Slim.
    He popped a blue flashbulb into his camera while Ruby and Peter posed. Bird did not know the meaning of the word
pose
, so he gazed upward into the night, as if he saw Gene Autry’s legendary ghost riders in the sky.
    Slim aimed and snapped, the flashbulb exploded, and Bird hollered, “Lordy, Lordy! I’ve been struck by lightnin’! I’m blinded!”
    â€œYou’re okay, Bird,” Peter said, rubbing his own offended eyes. “It’s just a flashbulb.”
    After introductions Slim offered up his new camera for their inspection.
    â€œI got it for my birthday today. It’s a Brownie Hawkeye, and it takes colored pictures. I’ll show them to you when they get developed.”
    â€œHappy birthday, Slim,” Ruby and Peter said together.
    â€œHow much does a camera like this cost?” Peter asked as he turned it over and over in his hands. Having seen very few cameras in his lifetime, he hardly knew what one should look like.
    â€œAbout six dollars, I think.”
    â€œWow, six dollars for a camera. Y’all must be rich,” Peter said.
    â€œNot a’tall.