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At
seven
-
thirty
Mrs
.
Spaulding
came
out
of
the
back
door
of
the
house
to
empty
some
watermelon
rinds
into
the
garbage
pail
and
saw
Mr
.
Jonas
standing
there
.
"
How
is
the
boy
?
"
said
Mr
.
Jonas
.
Mrs
.
Spaulding
stood
there
for
a
moment
,
a
response
trembling
on
her
lips
.
"
May
I
see
him
,
please
?
"
said
Mr
.
Jonas
.
Still
she
could
say
nothing
.
"
I
know
the
boy
well
,
"
he
said
.
"
Seen
him
most
every
day
of
his
life
since
he
was
out
and
around
.
I
’
ve
something
for
him
in
the
wagon
.
"
"
He
’
s
not
—
"
She
was
going
to
say
"
conscious
,
"
but
she
said
,
"
awake
.
He
’
s
not
awake
,
Mr
.
Jonas
.
The
doctor
said
he
’
s
not
to
be
disturbed
.
Oh
,
we
don
’
t
know
what
’
s
wrong
!
"
"
Even
if
he
’
s
not
‘
awake
,
’
"
said
Mr
.
Jonas
,
"
I
’
d
like
to
talk
to
him
.
Sometimes
the
things
you
hear
in
your
sleep
are
more
important
,
you
listen
better
,
it
gets
through
.
"
"
I
’
m
sorry
,
Mr
.
Jonas
,
I
just
can
’
t
take
the
chance
.
"
Mrs
.
Spaulding
caught
hold
of
the
screen
-
door
handle
and
held
fast
to
it
.
"
Thanks
.
Thank
you
,
anyway
,
for
coming
by
.
"
"
Yes
,
ma
’
am
,
"
said
Mr
.
Jonas
.
