He woke up Saturday morning with a dull headache. It was still early, but he got up. He wanted to do the milking. His father had done it ever since Thursday night, but he wanted to go back to it, to somehow make things normal again. He shut P. T. in the shed, and the dog's whimpering reminded him of May Belle and made his headache worse. But he couldn't have P. T. yapping at Miss Bessie while he tried to milk.

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