Thorne was at last reconciled to the passing of summer. Not by anything that had happened, but by the simple change of season that told her it was gone. There had been frost on the ground for a month now, and one or two light shows had fallen. The corn was gathered, the hogs were butchered, the potatoes were dug. In the kitchen houseflies dropped dead from the ceiling and ice crusted the basins in the early mornings. The children had put on their Long underwear, and showed and stockings once more appeared in Timberley schoolhouse. The spicy sweetness of baking pumpkin was in the air, and the big turkey that had strutted so arrogantly all fall was meekly roasting in Millie’s huge oven.
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