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John
fell
down
the
elm
-
tree
corridor
like
someone
falling
down
an
endless
summer
well
,
dwindling
away
.
Tick
.
John
Huff
.
Tick
.
Sand
pellet
dropping
.
Tick
.
John
.
.
.
Douglas
moved
his
head
flat
over
,
crashing
on
the
white
white
terribly
white
pillow
.
The
ladies
in
the
Green
Machine
sailed
by
in
a
sound
of
black
seal
barking
,
lifting
hands
as
white
as
doves
.
They
sank
into
the
lawn
’
s
deep
waters
,
their
gloves
still
waving
to
him
as
the
grass
closed
over
.
.
.
Miss
Fern
!
Miss
Roberta
!
Tick
.
.
.
tick
.
.
.
And
quickly
then
from
a
window
across
the
way
Colonel
Freeleigh
leaned
out
with
the
face
of
a
clock
,
and
buffalo
dust
sprang
up
in
the
street
.
Colonel
Freeleigh
spanged
and
rattled
,
his
jaw
fell
open
,
a
mainspring
shot
out
and
dangled
on
the
air
instead
of
his
tongue
.
He
collapsed
like
a
puppet
on
the
sill
,
one
arm
still
waving
.
.
.
Mr
.
Auffmann
rode
by
in
something
that
was
bright
and
something
like
the
trolley
and
the
green
electric
runabout
;
and
it
trailed
glorious
clouds
and
it
put
out
your
eyes
like
the
sun
.
"
Mr
.
Auffmann
,
did
you
invent
it
?
"
he
cried
.
"
Did
you
finally
build
the
Happiness
Machine
?
"
But
then
he
saw
there
was
no
bottom
to
the
machine
.
Mr
.
Auffmann
ran
along
on
the
ground
,
carrying
the
whole
incredible
frame
from
his
shoulders
.
"
Happiness
,
Doug
,
here
goes
happiness
!
"
And
he
went
the
way
of
the
trolley
,
John
Huff
,
and
the
dove
-
fingered
ladies
.
