“Yes you do, you hate me,” she sobbed into my chest. “No, sweetheart, no, I don’t hate you, I could never hate you.”“Then why won’t you ...ouch me? Why won’t you hug me?” She pulled away and looked at me accusingly. “Ever since that day, you can’t even stand to be in the same room with me! What did I do, Daddy? Am I that repulsive? Was I that disgusting that you can’t even be near me anymore?”“No, no honey,” I whispered. I pulled her to me again and stroked her hair. “Baby, that day was…”She. A young lad passed them using a stick to propel a hoop up the street. The townspeople were carrying on with business as if nothing untoward happened.Janie and Agnes resumed their walk along the street and soon turned off the main thoroughfare, headed for the Widow Johnson’s boarding house. They entered the neat little clapboard house with yellow paint and made their way back to Aggie’s room. She invited Janie inside and shut the door. To say that Mrs. Johnson was a nosy busybody was just a. More

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