“No, George,” Joe retorted quickly. “We don’t name the livestock.” Lydia had kept George in the house last spring when Pa had picked up one of the frolicking lambs, taken it to the back of the barn, and cut its throat quickly with his hunting knife. Farm children must come to terms early with the reality of life and death. The lamb was food like the eggs the chickens guarded, like the pig that provided sausage and ham and bacon for the family all winter. A tenderhearted child had to learn that difficult lesson quickly, and Joe felt responsible for educating his little brother.
Lydia glanced back at George, but Joe already had his hand on his brother’s leg combined with a look of caution that made it clear that further talk on this subject would be dangerous. Lydia glanced over at Albert w
