himself.
His father went on. “So I says to this person on the phone that I never knew anything about that, and he says, ‘You’re a liar. You set that fire, and I seen you do it, and the Bullards are gonna get even.’ “
“I just wish I had been on that telephone,” said Bernice. “I’d of given that customer a piece of my mind.”
“Well,” said her father, “he hung up right away then. But I got to thinking it was maybe that one calls himself Reverton, though it never sounded like him, except if he was disguising his voice some way, which he could of been doing. So I went over to see the chief. You know I went all through school with Harve. I told him about this business, and I says, ‘You know me, Harve, I wouldn’t hurt a fly, but this guy carries a pistol. I need me some protection. I want to get me a permit. If he’s got this crazy idea I set that fire, he might try and plug me one of these days.’“He breathed heavily for a moment.
Jack’s mother rose from the table. “I’m gonna get some coffee for you, Dolf. You need to calm down some.”
“I don’t know if that will do it,” Bernice said brightly. “Ain’t you ever heard of Coffee Nerves?”
“So Harve says, ‘If he carries a concealed weapon he’s breaking the law, Dolf. He can’t get away with that.’ But I says, ‘He’s a railroad detective,’ and Harve says, ‘Oh well then, he’s got a permit, but he ain’t got no right to draw on just anybody he argues with. Besides, that permit’s only good for the towns where the railroad passes through and would have to be okayed by all of them. If I catch him over in Hornbeck wearing a gun, I’ll pinch him. We ain’t got no railroad here.’ But I says to Harve, ‘I don’t know if he ever would come over here for any reason at all. The trouble is, I work over in Millville. If he jumps me over there I could get killed.’ But Harve says a permit he could give me for Hornbeck wouldn’t be no good in Millville, and he says, ‘You’d have to get another one over there if you carried a weapon across the line. And I don’t think their chief would give you one. He’s a mean man,’ Harve says. ‘I couldn’t do you no good with him. We don’t get along a-tall.’ ”
Jack’s mother put in front of his father a cup of coffee that was colored blue from all the milk in it.
Bernice screwed her face up so that it seemed to converge on her scarlet lips. “Gee, Papa, it’s all pretty punk.”
Tony was looking miserable. “Maybe it’ll all get straightened out in a couple days,” he said hopelessly.
Jack waited in vain for his brother to go on. “Hey, Tony,” he said at last. “Don’t you have something to tell Dad?”
Tony stared at him in alarm. “Huh?”
“About how the Bull—”
The explosion came at this point, making such a loud noise that for a moment its source could not be identified: it seemed to embrace everything in the universe.
Despite his apparent moral confusion just prior to the blast, Tony was quickest to respond. He was at the door in an instant, and before Jack got off his own chair, Tony was well into the yard. When Jack reached the corner of the garage he saw that one side of the car’s hood had been blown off and lay in the alley.
Tony emerged from the garage, carrying an old blanket of oil-stained felt: this he quickly hurled over the smoking engine. He was amazingly cool in such an operation.
Their father arrived, and the neighbors were beginning to come out of the nearby houses. Mr. Petty, who lived to their immediate west, got there first. He wore no tie, and the neck of his shirt was open, showing that he had already, this early in the season, put on his long johns.
“What happened here, Dolf?”
Jack’s father glared impersonally, crazily, at Petty or really past him, and said in disbelief, “I think that one was supposed to have my name on it.”
CHAPTER 4
When her mother went out to the scene of the blast, Bernice dashed
His father went on. “So I says to this person on the phone that I never knew anything about that, and he says, ‘You’re a liar. You set that fire, and I seen you do it, and the Bullards are gonna get even.’ “
“I just wish I had been on that telephone,” said Bernice. “I’d of given that customer a piece of my mind.”
“Well,” said her father, “he hung up right away then. But I got to thinking it was maybe that one calls himself Reverton, though it never sounded like him, except if he was disguising his voice some way, which he could of been doing. So I went over to see the chief. You know I went all through school with Harve. I told him about this business, and I says, ‘You know me, Harve, I wouldn’t hurt a fly, but this guy carries a pistol. I need me some protection. I want to get me a permit. If he’s got this crazy idea I set that fire, he might try and plug me one of these days.’“He breathed heavily for a moment.
Jack’s mother rose from the table. “I’m gonna get some coffee for you, Dolf. You need to calm down some.”
“I don’t know if that will do it,” Bernice said brightly. “Ain’t you ever heard of Coffee Nerves?”
“So Harve says, ‘If he carries a concealed weapon he’s breaking the law, Dolf. He can’t get away with that.’ But I says, ‘He’s a railroad detective,’ and Harve says, ‘Oh well then, he’s got a permit, but he ain’t got no right to draw on just anybody he argues with. Besides, that permit’s only good for the towns where the railroad passes through and would have to be okayed by all of them. If I catch him over in Hornbeck wearing a gun, I’ll pinch him. We ain’t got no railroad here.’ But I says to Harve, ‘I don’t know if he ever would come over here for any reason at all. The trouble is, I work over in Millville. If he jumps me over there I could get killed.’ But Harve says a permit he could give me for Hornbeck wouldn’t be no good in Millville, and he says, ‘You’d have to get another one over there if you carried a weapon across the line. And I don’t think their chief would give you one. He’s a mean man,’ Harve says. ‘I couldn’t do you no good with him. We don’t get along a-tall.’ ”
Jack’s mother put in front of his father a cup of coffee that was colored blue from all the milk in it.
Bernice screwed her face up so that it seemed to converge on her scarlet lips. “Gee, Papa, it’s all pretty punk.”
Tony was looking miserable. “Maybe it’ll all get straightened out in a couple days,” he said hopelessly.
Jack waited in vain for his brother to go on. “Hey, Tony,” he said at last. “Don’t you have something to tell Dad?”
Tony stared at him in alarm. “Huh?”
“About how the Bull—”
The explosion came at this point, making such a loud noise that for a moment its source could not be identified: it seemed to embrace everything in the universe.
Despite his apparent moral confusion just prior to the blast, Tony was quickest to respond. He was at the door in an instant, and before Jack got off his own chair, Tony was well into the yard. When Jack reached the corner of the garage he saw that one side of the car’s hood had been blown off and lay in the alley.
Tony emerged from the garage, carrying an old blanket of oil-stained felt: this he quickly hurled over the smoking engine. He was amazingly cool in such an operation.
Their father arrived, and the neighbors were beginning to come out of the nearby houses. Mr. Petty, who lived to their immediate west, got there first. He wore no tie, and the neck of his shirt was open, showing that he had already, this early in the season, put on his long johns.
“What happened here, Dolf?”
Jack’s father glared impersonally, crazily, at Petty or really past him, and said in disbelief, “I think that one was supposed to have my name on it.”
CHAPTER 4
When her mother went out to the scene of the blast, Bernice dashed
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