. . . I turned around again, drawn back to the conversation in spite of myself. Here was my salvation: to convince Molly that our life was too hard, too plain, too rugged for her to want to experience."Yes," I answered grimly, leaving the ice chest open behind me, but holding onto the side of it as though I needed support. "There are no electric lights, no dryer or dish washer, and no refrigeration. We have to butcher chickens and cows for meat, and grow everything else we need. We have to get up early to do chores and milk cows, and muck manure out of the stables. It's practically the Dark Ages out where we live."I sighed heavily and glanced through lowered brows at Molly, who was standing quite still, watching me with absolute attention. Ramona was staring at me in surprise and I glanced at her briefly, trying not to grin and give myself away. Molly was quiet for only a moment, her mouth formed a small 'o' in surprise.Then she smiled."That is so awesome. I bet you love it," Molly stated emphatically, doing a little hop-spin again, as though in celebration of the very idea. Ramona laughed, and I knew that she was laughing at me, not Molly.
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