He picked up the leather bag by its double handles and looked at me across the table.

“A little hard work in your father’s corn rows will do you good while I take Mom and Evelyn out of town,” Mark said.

He carried his bag out to the hallway and stepped onto the front porch without waiting for my answer.

I walked to the screen door and stood in the doorway.

Mark threw his bag into the back seat of his sedan and shut the door.

He started the engine, backed out of the gravel spot, and shifted into drive.