Weekly Newsletter The best of The Saturday Evening Post in your inbox! The air conditioner hummed and rattled and dripped. Marlie stepped out of the cool, dark interior of her aunt’s house into the blaring heat and sunlight of a Georgia July day. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and nobody but animals and children out of school went outside. Lyda Thompson’s little ginger and white mutt-dog Waylon ran up to the fence: Hey! Hey! I’m a big dog! Marlie thought, No you’re not. Hush.
