SAID JEAN Louise, when they had cleared away the rubble of the morning’s devastation, “if you don’t want the car I’m going around to Uncle Jack’s.”“All I want’s a nap. Don’t you want some dinner?”“No ma’am. Uncle Jack’ll give me a sandwich or something.”“Better not count on it. He eats less and less these days.”She stopped the car in Dr. Finch’s driveway, climbed the high front steps to his house, knocked on the door, and went in, singing in a raucous voice:“Old Uncle Jack with his cane and his crutchWhen he was young he boogie-woogied too much;Put the sales tax on it—”Dr. Finch’s house was small, but the front hallway was enormous. At one time it was a dog-trot hall, but Dr. Finch had sealed it in and built bookshelves around the walls.He called from the rear of the house, “I heard that, you vulgar girl. I’m in the kitchen.”She walked down the hall, through a door, and came to what was once an open back porch. It was now something faintly like a study, as were most of the rooms in his house.
