go barging in at dinnertime without an invitation.”
“Why not?”
Because it wasn’t the done thing; except that among the Bittersohn clan it evidently was. One could always bring something, she supposed. Like Aunt Appie. Sarah began to laugh.
“I know. I’ll throw together a nice tuna casserole.”
Max laughed, too. “What happened to the other one?”
“I was so furious last night that I served it. Nobody ate much—if you’d been around you’d have known why—so I set the rest out for the animals. Maybe it was the raccoons who burned down the boathouse in revenge for their tummyaches. Max, I hate to say this but I have an awful feeling Lionel’s monsters were telling the truth.”
“I don’t like it any more than you do, but I’m afraid you’re right,” he agreed. “I wonder if the arson squad will be able to turn up anything.”
“I hope so. It would be awful, never knowing. Remember that man with the jug of paint thinner who tried to burn down the house in Boston?”
“How could I ever forget? That was the first time you ever bothered to call me up.”
“And I’ve been bothering you ever since.”
“Damn right you have.” He pulled her over to him.
Blam! The noise of a cannon shot reverberated from the cliffside.
“My God!” Bittersohn pushed Sarah face down into the grass and flung himself on top of her. “We’re under bombardment.”
To his amazement, she was laughing. “Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all. That’s the starting cannon for a sailboat race, you idiot. We just happened to hear it more clearly than usual because it’s right below us. They must be practicing for the early regatta. I thought I heard another signal a while back, but one gets so used to them out here, one doesn’t pay attention. Bradley Rovedock’s the starter, I shouldn’t wonder. He never competes because Perdita can outsail any other boat in the club. They ought to be sailing past here any moment now.”
“Great,” said Bittersohn in disgust. “With their spyglasses glued to their eyeballs so they can see what we’re up to, no doubt. Let’s go over to the station and watch Ira pump gas.”
“Whatever turns you on, as our dear Miss LaValliere would say. I personally don’t see why we shouldn’t continue to sit here in a sedate and decorous manner, and enjoy the spectacle.”
“You would have to drag in the sedate and decorous manner.”
“One of us has to observe the proprieties. Look, there’s the first sail coming out of the cove now. Fren Larrington, I’ll bet. He’s crowding it on for all she’s worth. Watch, he’s going to pick up that little ruffle of wind you can see on the water out there and stand away from the cliff. A novice would stay close to land thinking to shorten the course, and get hung up in irons, like as not.”
“I didn’t realize sailing was such a brutal sport.”
“Aren’t you the funny one? That just means having the wind dead ahead of you so that you can’t move until you fall off and come about. Fall off doesn’t mean fall off the boat, of course. It’s all very technical. Alexander used to explain this stuff to me. We’d be standing here and—Max darling, I am sorry. I honestly don’t mean to keep running on about the past. It’s just like—oh, your talking about your Uncle Jake. Someone you’ve known all your life.”
“I was never married to Uncle Jake.”
“Max, can’t you understand it wasn’t a bit like you and me? Good heavens, there’s Miffy Tergoyne’s boat. The eighteen-foot gaff-rigged sloop with the red stripe around the hull coming up behind Biff Beaxitt. Biff’s too close-hauled as usual. He’ll jibe if he doesn’t—see there, he just did. Serves him right. I wish I could see who’s sailing Miffy’s boat.”
Rather incredibly, Max took a tiny collapsible telescope out of his pocket. “Give a look.”
“My stars, you do come equipped, don’t you?”
She leaned against him regardless of whoever
“Why not?”
Because it wasn’t the done thing; except that among the Bittersohn clan it evidently was. One could always bring something, she supposed. Like Aunt Appie. Sarah began to laugh.
“I know. I’ll throw together a nice tuna casserole.”
Max laughed, too. “What happened to the other one?”
“I was so furious last night that I served it. Nobody ate much—if you’d been around you’d have known why—so I set the rest out for the animals. Maybe it was the raccoons who burned down the boathouse in revenge for their tummyaches. Max, I hate to say this but I have an awful feeling Lionel’s monsters were telling the truth.”
“I don’t like it any more than you do, but I’m afraid you’re right,” he agreed. “I wonder if the arson squad will be able to turn up anything.”
“I hope so. It would be awful, never knowing. Remember that man with the jug of paint thinner who tried to burn down the house in Boston?”
“How could I ever forget? That was the first time you ever bothered to call me up.”
“And I’ve been bothering you ever since.”
“Damn right you have.” He pulled her over to him.
Blam! The noise of a cannon shot reverberated from the cliffside.
“My God!” Bittersohn pushed Sarah face down into the grass and flung himself on top of her. “We’re under bombardment.”
To his amazement, she was laughing. “Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all. That’s the starting cannon for a sailboat race, you idiot. We just happened to hear it more clearly than usual because it’s right below us. They must be practicing for the early regatta. I thought I heard another signal a while back, but one gets so used to them out here, one doesn’t pay attention. Bradley Rovedock’s the starter, I shouldn’t wonder. He never competes because Perdita can outsail any other boat in the club. They ought to be sailing past here any moment now.”
“Great,” said Bittersohn in disgust. “With their spyglasses glued to their eyeballs so they can see what we’re up to, no doubt. Let’s go over to the station and watch Ira pump gas.”
“Whatever turns you on, as our dear Miss LaValliere would say. I personally don’t see why we shouldn’t continue to sit here in a sedate and decorous manner, and enjoy the spectacle.”
“You would have to drag in the sedate and decorous manner.”
“One of us has to observe the proprieties. Look, there’s the first sail coming out of the cove now. Fren Larrington, I’ll bet. He’s crowding it on for all she’s worth. Watch, he’s going to pick up that little ruffle of wind you can see on the water out there and stand away from the cliff. A novice would stay close to land thinking to shorten the course, and get hung up in irons, like as not.”
“I didn’t realize sailing was such a brutal sport.”
“Aren’t you the funny one? That just means having the wind dead ahead of you so that you can’t move until you fall off and come about. Fall off doesn’t mean fall off the boat, of course. It’s all very technical. Alexander used to explain this stuff to me. We’d be standing here and—Max darling, I am sorry. I honestly don’t mean to keep running on about the past. It’s just like—oh, your talking about your Uncle Jake. Someone you’ve known all your life.”
“I was never married to Uncle Jake.”
“Max, can’t you understand it wasn’t a bit like you and me? Good heavens, there’s Miffy Tergoyne’s boat. The eighteen-foot gaff-rigged sloop with the red stripe around the hull coming up behind Biff Beaxitt. Biff’s too close-hauled as usual. He’ll jibe if he doesn’t—see there, he just did. Serves him right. I wish I could see who’s sailing Miffy’s boat.”
Rather incredibly, Max took a tiny collapsible telescope out of his pocket. “Give a look.”
“My stars, you do come equipped, don’t you?”
She leaned against him regardless of whoever
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