When I was a few years older, I had a dear friend who lived several miles away. I would walk there and spend weekends with her or she with me. Her family had five children.
The eldest son, named Paul, was a real math whiz. He had the bare necessities for studying, but he managed to earn a scholarship to Vanderbilt University in Nashville; they said the professors needed him to help. Paul was very unusual, a devout Christian.
The family was so poor that when Paul went away to school, he sent his shirts home by mail to be laundered. Three shirts could be mailed home and back for the price of one done in the laundry. And they must be starched and ironed to perfection.
Once I was visiting there when their water, which came from a well, started tasting and smelling bad. Upon investigation, they found a dead rat that had been so for many days. They had to haul water for weeks and clean the well.
Paul's dad was very intelligent. I used to love to sit on their porch swing and talk with him. This was during what we called "Hoover Days." Hoover was in office, and there was much talk about politics.