Was

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 smoke, pursued by Toto. Aunty Em followed with a broom made of twigs.

'Shoo! Shoo!' she said in a high voice.

'He won't hurt them, Aunty Em!' said Dorothy.

Aunty Em brought the broom down on Toto with a crackling of twigs. He yelped and rolled over. She whupped him again, and he kicked up dust and shot under the house.

'Henry, get a rope,' said Aunty Em.

'Got to take care of the mule, Em.'

The house rested about a foot off the ground on thick beams. Toto peered out from between them, quivering. Dorothy saw his eyes.

Aunty Em sighed and caught an escaping wisp of hair. 'Dorothy,' she said, sounding somewhat more kindly. 'Your dog is going to have to learn to stay away from the hens. Now let's get you inside.'

Aunty Em held up her arms and lifted Dorothy down. She walked back to the house, holding Dorothy's hand. 'We're going to have to tie Toto up, Dorothy. Just for a while. He can't go inside, or we'll never keep things clean, and he'll just have to learn not to worry the livestock.' Aunty Em lifted Dorothy up to the level of the front door, and then looked into her eyes. 'Do you understand, Dorothy?'

'Yes, Ma'am,' murmured Dorothy, scowling, confused.

'Well, in you go,' said Aunty Em, giving Dorothy's hand a rousing shake. 'Let's have some food and get you cleaned up. Henry, please to see to the dog.'

Then Dorothy saw inside the house. 'Oh no!' she grizzled. It wasn't nice. There was only one room, and it was dark, with only one window with no curtains.

'Guess it isn't St. Louis,' said Aunty Em. She flung open the door of an iron stove, red with rust, and lit two tallow candles. Immediately there was a smell of burned fat.

In the flickering light, Dorothy saw that inside, the walls were made of thick raw logs. There was a worn throw rug over a wooden floor, and a bare table and bare chairs; there was a wardrobe and a table with a chipped china basin and long handles on which towels hung. The chimney and fireplace occupied one entire side of the room, but were empty and cold. There was a bed crammed into one corner, and a blanket hung across the