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"
No
,
"
said
Charlie
.
"
You
know
who
lives
here
?
Only
one
guy
.
A
guy
who
gives
you
goose
-
pimples
just
to
think
of
him
.
"
Charlie
dropped
his
voice
very
low
.
"
The
Lonely
One
.
"
"
The
Lonely
One
?
"
"
Born
,
raised
and
lives
here
!
All
that
winter
,
Tom
,
all
that
cold
,
Doug
Where
else
would
he
come
from
to
make
us
shiver
the
hottest
nights
of
the
year
?
Don
’
t
it
smell
like
him
?
You
know
darn
well
it
does
.
The
Lonely
One
.
.
.
the
Lonely
One
.
.
.
"
The
mists
and
vapors
curled
in
darkness
.
Tom
screamed
.
"
It
’
s
okay
,
Doug
.
"
Charlie
grinned
.
"
"
I
just
dropped
a
little
bitty
hunk
of
ice
down
Tom
’
s
back
,
is
all
.
"
The
courthouse
clock
chimed
seven
times
.
The
echoes
of
the
chimes
faded
.
Warm
summer
twilight
here
in
upper
Illinois
country
in
this
little
town
deep
far
away
from
everything
,
kept
to
itself
by
a
river
and
a
forest
and
a
meadow
and
a
lake
.
The
sidewalks
still
scorched
.
The
stores
closing
and
the
streets
shad
-
:
owed
.
And
there
were
two
moons
;
the
clock
moon
with
four
’
faces
in
four
night
directions
above
the
solemn
black
courthouse
,
and
the
real
moon
rising
in
vanilla
whiteness
from
the
dark
east
.
In
the
drugstore
fans
whispered
in
the
high
ceiling
.
In
the
rococo
shade
of
porches
,
a
few
invisible
people
sat
.
Cigars
glowed
pink
,
on
occasion
.
Screen
doors
whined
their
springs
and
slammed
.
On
the
purple
bricks
of
the
summer
-
night
streets
,
Douglas
Spaulding
ran
;
dogs
and
boys
followed
after
.
