any subject, let alone his own experiences in Millville. There was not one person in the world who would not think, erroneously, that he had had a disastrous afternoon: not one but perhaps Eva Bullard, if it could be explained, and at the moment he was at a loss for a means of communicating with her.
However, only a lunatic would walk fifteen yards behind his brother without saying anything, and Tony called “Hi” to Jack.
Jack suspected that Tony had shouted to him more than once before getting his attention, and he was briefly unnerved, for he believed it an immutable law that he himself had an awareness superior to the rest of the world’s. He resolved never again to fall into such a deep distraction when he was outside, but to reserve such states for the splendid isolation of his own room.
He returned his brother’s hi. “Did you go to the picture?” It would have been quite possible for them both to have been in the big, crowded theater at the same time without seeing each other.
“Huh?” said Tony. “Oh, yeah.”
“Did you like it?”
The question seemed to take his brother aback. He finally answered, “Oh, sure … You?”
“Not much,” said Jack. “I don’t ever like all that singing and dancing. That’s a girl’s kind of movie.”
“I guess you’re right about that,” said Tony.
Jack complained, “That’s all they ever have there now. It’s never realistic. Some guy starts singing to a girl, and an orchestra begins to play somewhere you can’t even see.”
“Yeah,” said Tony. “That’s right.”
Jack saw a little woolly dog running up the sidewalk toward them, and in the distance he heard a woman’s shrill voice calling it.
“Here comes Mopsy.” In a moment the dog arrived, wagging its entire body violently. “Hi, Mops. Oh you nice dog you.” He bent and petted the animal. The unseen woman continued to cry its name. “You go on home now you bad dog.” He straightened up and pointed, but the dog ignored the order. Seeing that he would pat it no more, it ran on.
When they started to walk again, Tony said, “What I was thinking was maybe you could do me a favor. I would be willing to pay you.”
Jack could assume that his brother meant something other than common domestic chores: those they sometimes traded, usually because of Tony’s football schedule. He practiced every weekday after school, and the games were played on Friday nights. Jack did not go in much for what were called “activities” at school, yet in practice he was not as much of a loner as his brother. He always had one intimate. He had just parted from this pal, currently a fellow named Dickie Herkimer.
Tony looked from side to side, as if to make sure they would not be overheard. “This is confidential. You know that Bullard family that Dad had trouble with in their hardware store over in Millville? Well, that store burned down last night, and they are blaming us.”
“Us? You mean the whole family?”
“That’s what I hear,” said Tony, whose eye Jack could see, at an angle, between lens and cheek, in its naked and vulnerable state.
“Where’d they get that idea?”
“How do I know?” Tony asked. “I guess because they had that argument with Dad yesterday and then the fire broke out at night. And the argument had been about him smoking and maybe causing a fire. Maybe it seems too much of a coincidence.”
They were both silent for a while, and then Jack asked, “Did it burn to the ground?”
“I guess.”
“What favor do you want me to do you?” From the corner of his eye Jack could see that the dog Mopsy was returning from wherever it had been.
Tony said, “This is changing the subject, but I met a girl over at one of those park dances in Millville last summer.”
Mopsy had not gone past them but was trotting smartly at Jack’s heels. Jack stopped and pointed down the sidewalk. “Go home, Mops!” The dog ignored him. The woman’s calls could no longer be heard.
Tony
However, only a lunatic would walk fifteen yards behind his brother without saying anything, and Tony called “Hi” to Jack.
Jack suspected that Tony had shouted to him more than once before getting his attention, and he was briefly unnerved, for he believed it an immutable law that he himself had an awareness superior to the rest of the world’s. He resolved never again to fall into such a deep distraction when he was outside, but to reserve such states for the splendid isolation of his own room.
He returned his brother’s hi. “Did you go to the picture?” It would have been quite possible for them both to have been in the big, crowded theater at the same time without seeing each other.
“Huh?” said Tony. “Oh, yeah.”
“Did you like it?”
The question seemed to take his brother aback. He finally answered, “Oh, sure … You?”
“Not much,” said Jack. “I don’t ever like all that singing and dancing. That’s a girl’s kind of movie.”
“I guess you’re right about that,” said Tony.
Jack complained, “That’s all they ever have there now. It’s never realistic. Some guy starts singing to a girl, and an orchestra begins to play somewhere you can’t even see.”
“Yeah,” said Tony. “That’s right.”
Jack saw a little woolly dog running up the sidewalk toward them, and in the distance he heard a woman’s shrill voice calling it.
“Here comes Mopsy.” In a moment the dog arrived, wagging its entire body violently. “Hi, Mops. Oh you nice dog you.” He bent and petted the animal. The unseen woman continued to cry its name. “You go on home now you bad dog.” He straightened up and pointed, but the dog ignored the order. Seeing that he would pat it no more, it ran on.
When they started to walk again, Tony said, “What I was thinking was maybe you could do me a favor. I would be willing to pay you.”
Jack could assume that his brother meant something other than common domestic chores: those they sometimes traded, usually because of Tony’s football schedule. He practiced every weekday after school, and the games were played on Friday nights. Jack did not go in much for what were called “activities” at school, yet in practice he was not as much of a loner as his brother. He always had one intimate. He had just parted from this pal, currently a fellow named Dickie Herkimer.
Tony looked from side to side, as if to make sure they would not be overheard. “This is confidential. You know that Bullard family that Dad had trouble with in their hardware store over in Millville? Well, that store burned down last night, and they are blaming us.”
“Us? You mean the whole family?”
“That’s what I hear,” said Tony, whose eye Jack could see, at an angle, between lens and cheek, in its naked and vulnerable state.
“Where’d they get that idea?”
“How do I know?” Tony asked. “I guess because they had that argument with Dad yesterday and then the fire broke out at night. And the argument had been about him smoking and maybe causing a fire. Maybe it seems too much of a coincidence.”
They were both silent for a while, and then Jack asked, “Did it burn to the ground?”
“I guess.”
“What favor do you want me to do you?” From the corner of his eye Jack could see that the dog Mopsy was returning from wherever it had been.
Tony said, “This is changing the subject, but I met a girl over at one of those park dances in Millville last summer.”
Mopsy had not gone past them but was trotting smartly at Jack’s heels. Jack stopped and pointed down the sidewalk. “Go home, Mops!” The dog ignored him. The woman’s calls could no longer be heard.
Tony
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