Free Judy's Journey by Lois Lenski Page A

door, a smile of relief on her face.
    â€œBut I wanted to stay with Bessie,” gulped Judy.
    â€œBessie’s in Fifth Grade, you’re in Third.”
    Judy stepped out and the classroom door closed behind her.
    But she did not go to Miss Norris’s room. Instead, she tiptoed out of the building and ran home as fast as she could go. I’ll never go back to that school again! Never! I’ll never go back! The words echoed and re-echoed through her mind.

CHAPTER VI
The Canal Bank
    â€œY OU MUST MAKE A pen for that goat and shut her up nights or she’ll git pneumonia and die, sure as my name’s Patrick Joseph Timothy Mulligan.”
    â€œWhat can I make it out of?” asked Joe Bob.
    â€œGo down to the dump and git some pieces of galvanized tin,” said Mister Mulligan, “and drag ’em back here. Mighty fine place—that dump. No tellin’ what you’ll be a-findin’ there.”
    â€œWill you go with me, Mister Mulligan?” asked Joe Bob.
    â€œNot today, sonny,” said the man. “My r-rheumatiz is better, thank the Lord, but I got such a rushin’ of blood to me head, I might fall over any time day or night. Besides, I want to catch me a few catfish for a wee bite o’ supper.”
    Joe Bob and Mister Mulligan had become great friends because they both liked to go fishing and to keep on fishing all day, whether they caught anything or not. Mister Mulligan had traveled all over the country, on foot, and now his feet were tired and had come to rest at last—in Florida.
    Judy offered to go with Joe Bob. The dump was a long way off, and when they got there, it was enormous. It looked as if it held all the old worn-out cars and trucks in the world, also old stoves, machinery and refuse of all kinds. It was called: IKE’S JUNK YARD; and Ike, a tousled, rough-looking man, was kept busy watching to see that no visitor walked off without paying for what he took. People were wandering all over the dump. Men and boys were searching old cars for “parts.” Small boys were hunting for wheels, axles, or unexpected treasures. A woman and a boy and girl were pulling an auto seat cushion behind them.
    â€œLaw me, I’m near about give out,” said the woman, stopping to rest. “But this will be a heap sight better’n sleepin’ on the hard, cold ground.”
    Judy recognized her. It was Mrs. Holloway who lived next door in a packing-box house. She was tall and thin and young, but had hardly any teeth.
    â€œHowdy. How be ye?” she called cheerfully. “You-uns look-in’ for a soft bed too?”
    â€œNo ma’m .” Judy shook her head. “We got an iron bed in our tent. We’re gittin’ tin to make a shed for our goat.”
    â€œWhat do you-uns tote that noisy ole nanny goat around fur?” asked Mrs. Holloway. “Smelly ole thing, do she eat up your tin cans?”
    â€œNo ma’m ,” said Judy. “She eats good green stuff and goat-chop, and she gives good milk for Lonnie to drink. Lonnie’s not puny no more since he’s been drinkin’ goat’s milk.” She looked at the red-headed Holloway girl. “What’s her name?”
    â€œTessie,” answered the woman. “Tessie Henrietta Beulah Holloway.”
    â€œWhat’s his’n?” Judy pointed to the little boy.
    â€œGwyn Lyle Holloway, same as his Pappy and Grandpappy and Great-grandpappy afore him.”
    â€œFunny names,” said Judy.
    â€œYou-all talk funny too,” said Joe Bob.
    â€œI don’t guess we can help how we talk,” said Mrs. Holloway. “Hit depends on where you come from, don’t it? People talk different in different parts of the country—you ought to hear how funny them Yankees talk up north !—but long as we can understand each other, we needn’t pay no mind.”
    â€œDo people all talk different?” asked Judy. This was a new