Umph! Umph! Umph! How is dat husband uh yourn?” “Lawd a’mussy, honey, Ah sho is glad tuh see mah chile! G’wan inside and let Mis’ Washburn know youse heah. Nanny beamed all out with gladness and made her come up to the bread board so she could kiss her. Washburn’s kitchen on the day for beaten biscuits. The new moon had been up and down three times before she got worried in mind. But anyhow Janie went on inside to wait for love to begin. It was a lonesome place like a stump in the middle of the woods where nobody had ever been. But nobody put anything on the seat of Logan’s wagon to make it ride glorious on the way to his house. Janie and Logan got married in Nanny’s parlor of a Saturday evening with three cakes and big platters of fried rabbit and chicken. Janie felt glad of the thought, for then it wouldn’t seem so destructive and mouldy. Husbands and wives always loved each other, and that was what marriage meant. She could see no way for it to come about, but Nanny and the old folks had said it, so it must be so. Yes, she would love Logan after they were married. Finally out of Nanny’s talk and her own conjectures she made a sort of comfort for herself. She was back and forth to the pear tree continuously wondering and thinking. In the few days to live before she went to Logan Killicks and his often-mentioned sixty acres, Janie asked inside of herself and out. Did marriage end the cosmic loneliness of the unmated? Did marriage compel love like the sun the day? Janie had had no chance to know things, so she had to ask. There are years that ask questions and years that answer.
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