They'd eaten rats together in a Yankee prison. And when Pa got the letter that the man was run down by a carriage on the streets of Richmond, he cried like a baby. That was the onliest time I saw him cry until Tolbert told him Ro wouldn't come home. Pa didn't really cry, but his face got all screwed up like he was fixing to. "Go on into the house," he said to me gruffly. "Your ma's got supper awaitin'. Tell her I'll be in directly." By the time Tolbert brought him into the house, his face was smooth again. We all stood around the table until Pa sat. That was the custom. Then Ma would say a prayer. But soon as it was over Pa stood again, and we stopped reaching and grabbing for the food. We knew he was going to hold forth. "Your sister has refused to come home," he said. "I say she's made her own bed, now let her lie in it. But I want to hear what you all say. First you, Sarah." "I say we should give her another chance. Let her mull things," Ma said. Tolbert, who'd stayed for supper, spoke next.
