"Do you think we should have Molly examine Olive?"
"Why? What for?" I was shouting. My voice was so sharp. I wanted to cut
all of this away. "There's nothing wrong with her! Do you see anything
wrong with her?"
"Maybe we should let Molly check Olive out."
I kept sanding.
Adonie stood waiting.
I expected she could stand there waiting forever. I straightened. "Why? Is
there something wrong with her?"
Adonie turned her gaze to watch Olive. She was intently digging some
secret little hole at the edge of the back porch. Her blue shorts had a
hole in the seat. They looked about forty-five years old. "She's thin."
"Some kids are."
Adonie nodded. "Still," she said, after a time, after I had begun sanding
again, "it wouldn't hurt. Molly wouldn't mind, would she?"