Then, she was suddenly jerked back to reality as she heard Chris ask one of the men to go into the barn and bring back a halter for the bull. In desperation she crawled back over the hay and jumping to her feet, ran out the rear door. She silently scuttled through the fence and fell on the ground behind a bush and lay there for some time, panting and gasping, too afraid to move. Later, she made her way back to the farm just as her father and brother were returning to the house after unloading the cow in the corral. She could not look either of them in the face and silently began to help her mother prepare the evening meal. Her thoughts were strangely muddled and disturbing to her young and innocent mind.

A few days later Cynthia went on one of her beloved rambles over the countryside. She never grew tired of these explorations, searching through the woods for tiny, wild flowers, running and skipping over the lush, dark-green meadows, with Pal barking madly at her side, or weaving her way through the rustling lanes of corn. Her favorite spot was a small glen in a wood on the other side of the wheat field. Here she used to go to drowse away an afternoon or to construct a small lean-to of branches and "playhouse", or to sit quietly and hope a rabbit or squirrel would approach. Pal would sniff around the surrounding woods, barking loudly in surprise and excitement when he would startle a wild bird. Usually, however, he would lie on the soft gently waving grass, panting in the heat. It was an Indian summer day, almost as hot as it had been in July.