Today is Tuesday.
Sometimes a big jack rabbit bounded in big bounds away over the blowing grass. Jack paid no attention. Poor Jack was tired, too, and his paws were sore from traveling so far. The wagon kept on jolting, the canvas top snapped in the wind. Two faint wheel tracks kept going away behind the wagon, always the same. Pa’s back was hunched. The reins were loose in his hands, the wind blew his long brown beard. Ma sat straight and quiet, her hands folded in her lap. Baby Carrie slept in a nest among the soft bundles. Mary yawned, and Laura asked Ma if they could get out and run behind the wagon because her legs were so tired. Ma said no. Laura asked if they were going to camp pretty soon. It seemed such a long time since noon, when they had eaten their lunch sitting on the clean grass in the shade of the wagon. Pa answered that it was too early to camp now. Laura said that she wanted to camp now and she was so tired. Then Ma said Laura’s name and that was all, because it meant that Laura must not complain. So she did not complain any more out loud, but she was still naughty, inside. She sat and thought complaints to herself.
