"Tuck Everlasting" by Natalie Babbitt, Prologue–Chapter 5

It widened and seemed to pause, suggesting tranquil bovine picnics: slow chewing and thoughtful contemplation of the infinite.

It widened and seemed to pause, suggesting tranquil bovine picnics: slow chewing and thoughtful contemplation of the infinite.

And all at once the sun was uncomfortably hot, the dust oppressive, and the meager grass along its edges somewhat ragged and forlorn.

And all at once the sun was uncomfortably hot, the dust oppressive, and the meager grass along its edges somewhat ragged and forlorn.

And anyway, for the people, there was another reason to leave the wood to itself: it belonged to the Fosters, the owners of the touch-me-not cottage, and was therefore private property in spite of the fact that it lay outside the fence and was perfectly accessible.

He was still asleep, and the melancholy creases that folded his daytime face were smoothed and slack.

Mae Tuck climbed out of bed and began to dress: three petticoats, a rusty brown skirt with one enormous pocket, an old cotton jacket, and a knitted shawl which she pinned across her bosom with a tarnished metal brooch.

Tuck rolled over and made a rueful face at her. “What in the world could possibly happen to me?”

She paused and peered anxiously at the toad to see how it would receive this staggering idea, but it showed no signs of interest.

“All right! I’m coming!” she cried, exasperated, and then added quickly, “I mean, I’ll be right there, Mama.”

His long chin faded off into a thin, apologetic beard, but his suit was a jaunty yellow that seemed to glow a little in the fading light.

His tall body moved continuously; a foot tapped, a shoulder twitched. And it moved in angles, rather jerkily. But at the same time he had a kind of grace, like a well-handled marionette.

Still, it was galling, this having to admit she was afraid.

And when she remembered the toad, she felt even more disheartened.

“Well, I still don’t see why not,” said Winnie plaintively. “I’m getting thirstier every minute. If it didn’t hurt you, it won’t hurt me. If my papa was here, he’d let me have some.”