Mr. Morrison's song faded and I guessed he was on his way to the rear of the house. He would stay there for a while, walking on cat's feet through the quiet
yard, then eventually return to the front porch again. Unable to sleep, I resigned
myself to await his return by counting states. Miss Crocker had had a big thing
about states, and I sometimes found that if I pretended that she was naming them
off I could fall asleep.
From Mildred D. Taylor, Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry. Copyright 1976 by Mildred D. Taylor