Publisher's Synopsis
"Oh, Wing Biddlebaum, comb your hair, it falls in your eyes," the voice commanded the man, who was bald and whose nervous little hands played over his bare white forehead as if fixing a mass of tangled locks. The berry pickers, young men and maidens, laughed and shouted loudly. A boy dressed in a blue shirt jumped out of the car and tried to drag one of the maids after him, who screamed and protested loudly. The boy's feet on the road kicked up a cloud of dust that floated over the face of the setting sun. Across the long field came a beautiful girl's voice.
