Today is Sunday.
He felt he would be a rock forever and he tried to get used to it. He went into an endless sleep. The days grew colder. One day a wolf sat on the rock that was Sylvester and howled and howled because he was hungry. And spring came with trees turning green and snow melting. One day in May, Mr. Duncan insisted that his wife go with him on a picnic. “Let’s cheer up,” he said. ”Let us try to live again and be happy even though Sylvester, our angel, is no longer with us.” They went to Strawberry Hill, where Sylvester was on. Mrs. Duncan sat down on the rock. The warmth of his own mother sitting on him woke Sylvester up from his deep winter sleep. How he wanted to shout, “Mother! Father! It is me, Sylvester, I’m right here!” But he couldn’t talk. He had no voice. He was stone-dumb. Mr. Duncan walked aimlessly about while Mrs. Duncan set out the picnic food on the rock – alfalfa sandwiches, pickled oats, sassafras salad, timothy compote. Suddenly Mr. Duncan saw the red pebble. “What a fantastic pebble!” he exclaimed. He put the pebble on the rock.
