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"
You
're
very
kind
,
Mr.
Crandall
,
"
Rachel
said
.
"
Not
at
all
,
"
he
said
.
"
Lookin
forward
to
having
young
"
uns
around
again
.
"
Except
that
the
sound
of
this
,
as
exotic
to
their
Midwestern
ears
as
a
foreign
language
,
was
yowwuns
.
"
You
just
want
to
watch
em
around
the
road
,
Missus
Creed
.
Lots
of
big
trucks
on
that
road
.
"
Now
there
was
the
sound
of
slamming
doors
as
the
moving
men
hopped
out
of
the
cab
and
came
toward
them
.
Ellie
had
wandered
away
a
little
,
and
now
she
said
,
"
Daddy
,
what
's
this
?
"
Louis
,
who
had
started
to
meet
the
moving
men
,
glanced
back
.
At
the
edge
of
the
field
,
where
the
lawn
stopped
and
high
summer
grass
took
over
,
a
path
about
four
feet
wide
had
been
cut
,
smooth
and
close
.
It
wound
up
the
hill
,
curved
through
a
low
stand
of
bushes
and
a
copse
of
birches
,
and
out
of
sight
.
"
Looks
like
a
path
of
some
kind
,
"
Louis
said
.
"
Oh
,
ayuh
,
"
Crandall
said
,
smiling
.
"
Tell
you
about
it
sometime
,
missy
.
You
want
to
come
over
and
we
'll
fix
your
baby
brother
up
?
"
"
Sure
,
"
Ellie
said
and
then
added
with
a
certain
hopefulness
:
"
Does
baking
soda
sting
?
"
Crandall
brought
back
the
keys
,
but
by
then
Louis
found
his
set
.
There
was
a
space
at
the
top
of
the
glove
compartment
,
and
the
small
envelope
had
slipped
down
into
the
wiring
.
He
fished
it
out
and
let
the
movers
in
.
Crandall
gave
him
the
extra
set
.
They
were
on
an
old
,
tarnished
fob
.
Louis
thanked
him
and
slipped
them
absently
into
his
pocket
,
watching
the
movers
take
in
boxes
and
dressers
and
bureaus
and
all
the
other
things
they
had
collected
over
the
ten
years
of
their
marriage
.
Seeing
them
this
way
,
out
of
their
accustomed
places
,
diminished
them
.
Just
a
bunch
of
stuff
in
boxes
,
he
thought
,
and
suddenly
he
felt
sad
and
depressed
--
he
guessed
he
was
feeling
what
people
called
homesickness
.
"
Uprooted
and
transplanted
,
"
Crandall
said
,
suddenly
beside
him
,
and
Louis
jumped
a
little
.
