Mr. Lehr, her brother, read a New York magazine-it was three weeks old, but that didn't really matter. the whole scene was like peace."Just help yourself to water," Miss Lehr said, "when you want it."A huge earthenware jar stood in a cool corner with a ladle and a tumbler. "Don't you have to boil the water?" the priest asked."Oh, no, our water's fresh and clean," Miss Lehr said primly, as if she couldn't answer for anybody else's."Best water in the state," her brother said. The shiny magazine leaves crackled as they turned, covered with photographs of big clean-shaven mastiff jowls-Senators and Congressmen. Pasture stretched away beyond the garden fence, undulating gently towards the next mountain range, and a tulipan tree blossomed and faded daily at the gate."You certainly are looking better, father," Miss Lehr said. They both spoke rather guttural English with slight American accents-Mr. Lehr had left Germany when he was a boy to escape military service: he had a shrewd lined idealistic face.
