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When
he
was
ready
to
write
he
used
a
human
stenographer
and
watched
her
reactions
.
He
was
ready
now
.
"
Front
!
"
he
shouted
.
"
Anne
is
‘
front
,
’
"
answered
Dorcas
.
"
But
I
’
ll
take
it
.
That
splash
was
Anne
.
"
"
Dive
in
and
get
her
.
I
can
wait
.
"
The
little
brunette
cut
the
water
;
a
few
moments
later
Anne
climbed
out
,
put
on
a
towel
robe
,
dried
her
hands
on
it
,
and
sat
down
on
the
other
side
of
the
table
.
She
said
nothing
,
nor
did
she
make
any
preparations
;
Anne
had
total
recall
,
never
bothered
with
recording
devices
.
Harshaw
picked
up
a
bucket
of
ice
cubes
over
which
brandy
had
been
poured
,
took
a
deep
swig
.
"
Anne
,
I
’
ve
got
a
really
sick
-
making
one
.
It
’
s
about
a
little
kitten
that
wanders
into
a
church
on
Christmas
Eve
to
get
warm
.
Besides
being
starved
and
frozen
and
lost
,
the
kitten
has
–
God
knows
why
–
an
injured
paw
.
All
right
;
start
:
‘
Snow
had
been
falling
since
-
‘
"
What
pen
name
?
"
"
Mmm
?
better
use
‘
Molly
Wadsworth
’
again
.
This
one
is
pretty
icky
.
And
title
it
The
Other
Manger
.
Start
again
.
"
He
went
on
talking
while
watching
her
closely
.
When
tears
started
to
leak
out
of
her
closed
eyes
he
smiled
slightly
and
closed
his
own
eyes
.
By
the
time
he
finished
,
tears
were
running
down
his
cheeks
as
well
as
hers
,
both
bathed
in
a
catharsis
of
schmaltz
.
"
Thirty
,
"
he
announced
.
"
You
can
blow
your
nose
.
Send
it
off
and
for
God
’
s
sake
don
’
t
let
me
see
it
or
I
’
ll
tear
it
up
.
"
"
Jubal
,
aren
’
t
you
ever
ashamed
?
"
"
No
.
"
"
Someday
I
’
m
going
to
kick
you
right
in
your
fat
stomach
for
one
of
these
.
"
