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Grandpa
reached
into
his
pocket
,
took
out
the
old
deep
-
mouthed
purse
,
unclasped
the
silver
clasp
,
and
removed
from
it
three
five
-
dollar
bills
.
"
Bill
,
you
’
ve
just
made
a
great
profit
of
five
dollars
on
this
transaction
.
I
want
you
to
deliver
this
load
of
unromantic
grass
into
the
ravine
,
the
garbage
dump
—
anywhere
—
but
I
ask
you
in
a
civil
and
humble
voice
not
to
plant
it
in
my
yard
.
Your
motives
are
above
reproach
,
but
my
motives
,
I
feel
,
because
I
’
m
approaching
my
tenderest
years
,
must
be
considered
first
.
"
"
Yes
,
sir
.
"
Bill
pocketed
the
bills
reluctantly
.
"
Bill
,
you
just
plant
this
new
grass
some
other
year
.
The
day
after
I
die
,
Bill
,
you
’
re
free
to
tear
up
the
whole
damn
lawn
.
Think
you
can
wait
another
five
years
or
so
for
an
old
orator
to
kick
off
?
"
"
I
know
dam
well
I
can
wait
,
"
Bill
said
.
"
There
’
s
a
thing
about
the
lawn
mower
I
can
’
t
even
tell
you
,
but
to
me
it
’
s
the
most
beautiful
sound
in
the
world
,
the
freshest
sound
of
the
season
,
the
sound
of
summer
,
and
I
’
d
miss
it
fearfully
if
it
wasn
’
t
there
,
and
I
’
d
miss
the
smell
Of
cut
grass
.
"
Bill
bent
to
pick
up
a
flat
.
"
Here
I
go
to
the
ravine
.
"
"
You
’
re
a
good
,
understanding
young
man
,
and
will
make
a
brilliant
and
sensitive
reporter
,
"
said
Grandfather
,
helping
him
.
"
This
I
predict
!
"
The
morning
passed
,
noon
came
on
,
Grandpa
retired
after
lunch
,
read
a
little
Whittier
,
and
slept
well
on
through
the
day
.
When
he
awoke
at
three
the
sun
was
streaming
through
the
windows
,
bright
and
fresh
.
He
lay
in
bed
and
was
startled
to
hear
the
old
,
the
familiar
,
the
memorable
sound
.
"
Why
,
"
he
said
,
"
someone
’
s
using
the
lawn
mower
!
But
the
lawn
was
just
cut
this
morning
!
"
He
listened
again
.
And
yes
,
there
it
was
,
the
endless
droning
chatter
up
and
down
,
up
and
down
.
