Sally nibbled at her own sandwich and continued to smile downward. Wally glanced at the older men, the landowners, standing in a circle at one end of the green, then at their women gathered on a cluster of blankets in the green’s center. His eyes came to rest on the young people, the bachelors and outnumbered maidens, gathered in a polite circle around the edges of a second cluster of blankets. “What does somebody do in this town for fun?”

“You’re doing it.”

Wally glanced at the stands of the racetrack, idle and silent on Sundays, over the copse of trees separating racetrack and picnic green. “Have you ever been outside of Monroe?”

“Have I ever been outside of Monroe,” Sally repeated with mock indignation. “Why, I went to Albany just last summer.”

Wally brushed at one corner of his mouth and tilted his head back to finish the last of his milk. “What took you there?”

“We all went to go see my brother there, after he finished boot camp. They gave them one day before they shipped out. That was in August. Before the flu outbreak, of course.” Sally’s smile had disappeared, and now her eyes were on one of the distant foothills binding the town. “He was drafted last spring.”

Wally nodded. “I heard as much. What flu outbreak?”

Sally stared downward with sudden coldness. “You haven’t heard about the flu? Where have you been?”

“I’ve been in Illinois.” Then he asked, “What unit is your brother serving in?”

“David’s with the Eighty-ninth Division. Pa signed up for the Spanish War, but he never even made it to Cuba, so he was so proud of ‘im when he shipped out for France.” The words tumbled out of her mouth as one hand stroked the wool blanket that separated the picnickers from the grass.