Sycamores

Of course I know you two. You're the girls who live at Sycamores. Nodding our heads, we smiled and waited patiently astride our mounts while she went inside to prepare us a snack. Unbeknownst to us, she called our aunt. In short order there was a squeal of tires, clouds of dust and the roar of a car charging up the drive. Earlier that morning, we decided to travel a bit, so we bridled the mules and rode bareback down a country road until we became hungry. Our aunt saw to it that our traveling days were over for the rest of that summer and, if you've ever ridden a mule, then you know our sitting days were over for a good while too.

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