Pac Man.” “No, it’s my quarter—I asked for it—and I’m playing Galaxians.” The Glory family had stopped to eat on the way home from their performance at the Central High Auditorium. Mr. and Mrs. Glory were sitting in a booth, tiredly leaning on their arms. Mr. Glory had not spoken since his final, “God bless you and keep you until we meet again.” Mr. Glory was depressed. In his mind he was blaming the rain, his wife’s playing, and his children’s singing for the dull, unsuccessful performance. Underneath was the nagging thought that he was the one who had not been at his best. If that was true, he thought, it was because of Newt. Mr. Glory’s brows lowered over his gray eyes. His brother Newt had become like the bear in that old game they had once played as children. The bear would hide and the rest of them would go around the yard singing, “Ain’t no bears out tonight, Papa killed them all last night.” But they would know that the bear was there, somewhere in the dark bushes, waiting for the right moment to jump out and send them screaming for safety and the front porch.
