interrupts, "they know you're crazy because they saw you
out here from their second story back windows. That's
why they came. So you may as well get up and face them.
I promised them I'd bring you in. You can't go on
forever refusing to see people, and you know the Whalens
are--"
"Whalens!" I gasped. "How many of them? Not--not
the entire fiendish three?"
"All three. I left them champing with impatience."
The Whalens live just around the corner. The Whalens
are omniscient. They have a system of news gathering
which would make the efforts of a New York daily appear
antiquated. They know that Jenny Laffin feeds the family
on soup meat and oat-meal when Mr. Laffin is on the road;
they know that Mrs. Pearson only shakes out her rugs once
in four weeks; they can tell you the number of times a
week that Sam Dempster comes home drunk; they know that
the Merkles never have cream with their coffee because
little Lizzie Merkle goes to the creamery every day with
just one pail and three cents; they gloat over the knowledge
that Professor Grimes, who is a married man, is sweet on
Gertie Ashe, who teaches second reader in his school;
they can tell you where Mrs. Black got her seal coat, and
her husband only earning two thousand a year; they know
who is going to run for mayor, and how long poor Angela
Sims has to live, and what Guy Donnelly said to Min when
he asked her to marry him.
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