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"
Good
morning
,
sir
.
My
name
is
Ethan
Allen
Hawley
.
I
’
ve
met
you
in
pissing
.
"
Red
Baker
stopped
and
acknowledged
the
greeting
,
with
a
slow
sway
of
his
plumed
tail
.
Ethan
said
,
"
I
was
just
looking
at
my
house
.
They
knew
how
to
build
in
those
days
.
"
Red
cocked
his
head
and
reached
with
a
hind
foot
to
kick
casually
at
his
ribs
.
"
And
why
not
?
They
had
the
money
.
Whale
oil
from
the
seven
seas
,
and
spermaceti
.
Do
you
know
what
spermaceti
is
?
"
Red
gave
a
whining
sigh
.
"
I
see
you
don
’
t
.
A
light
,
lovely
rose
-
smelling
oil
from
the
head
cavity
of
the
sperm
whale
.
Read
Moby
-
Dick
,
dog
.
That
’
s
my
advice
to
you
.
"
The
setter
lifted
his
leg
on
the
cast
-
iron
hitching
post
at
the
gutter
.
Turning
to
walk
away
,
Ethan
said
over
his
shoulder
,
"
And
make
a
book
report
.
You
might
teach
my
son
.
He
can
’
t
even
spell
spermaceti
,
or
—
or
anything
.
"
Elm
Street
runs
at
an
angle
into
High
Street
two
blocks
from
the
old
Ethan
Allen
Hawley
house
.
Halfway
down
the
first
block
a
delinquent
gang
of
English
sparrows
were
fighting
on
the
new
-
coming
lawn
of
the
Elgar
house
,
not
playing
but
rolling
and
picking
and
eye
-
gouging
with
such
ferocity
and
so
noisily
that
they
didn
’
t
see
Ethan
approach
.
He
stopped
to
watch
the
battle
.
