Fannie wasn’t any beauty, though she was considered the better looking of the young Sanders girls. She had a beautiful figure and nice feet, while I was inclined to be a little more than pleasantly plump. Her hair was a platinum white and she wore it short, even though it wasn’t considered the proper thing then. There were times when she even went so far as to have it clipped off and her temples shaved. While Fannie was gone after the mule, I kept on working, and when I saw her coming back, she was a sight that overshadowed anything I’ve ever seen for comedy. There she sat astride that old white mule, her short hair blowing in the wind and her long legs almost touching the ground. The old mule was pacing for all he was worth and letting out bray after bray. Every time he brayed, his tail stuck out straight behind him. Hee-haw! Hee-haw! Hee-haw! Fannie was hanging on for dear life, and the mule braying louder with every step. I laughed until I could hardly get my breath. Then I sorter got my wind and laughed some more. We finished the laying by before dark and gave the horses plenty of feed so they’d be fit for the trip to Thurber. We took out Saturday night bath a little ahead of time and put our hair up in curlers. It was mighty late before we got to bed. We were both dog tired, but that didn’t matter. It was the usual thing. We had surely given the cornpatch fits that day. Next morning we were up before daylight, brought in wood for Ma, and did all the other work we could find. It was too early to start, and we just couldn’t keep still. more tomorrow