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Beth
nodded
and
as
she
did
so
saw
that
someone
was
standing
behind
Mrs
.
Deardorff
on
the
porch
of
the
Administration
Building
.
It
was
Mr
.
Shaibel
.
He
had
his
hands
stuffed
in
his
coverall
pockets
and
was
looking
toward
the
car
.
She
wanted
to
get
out
and
go
over
to
him
,
but
Mrs
.
Deardorff
was
in
the
way
,
so
she
leaned
back
in
her
seat
.
Mrs
.
Wheatley
began
talking
,
and
Mr
.
Wheatley
started
the
car
.
As
they
pulled
out
,
Beth
twisted
around
in
her
seat
and
waved
out
the
back
window
at
him
,
but
he
made
no
response
.
She
could
not
tell
for
sure
if
he
had
seen
her
or
not
.
*
*
*
“
You
should
have
seen
their
faces
,
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
said
.
She
was
wearing
the
same
blue
cardigan
,
but
this
time
she
had
a
faded
gray
dress
under
it
,
and
her
nylons
were
rolled
down
to
her
ankles
.
“
They
looked
in
all
my
closets
and
even
inspected
the
refrigerator
.
I
could
see
immediately
that
they
were
impressed
with
my
provisions
.
Have
some
more
of
the
tuna
casserole
.
I
certainly
enjoy
watching
a
young
child
eat
.
”
Beth
put
a
little
more
on
her
plate
.
The
problem
was
that
it
was
too
salty
,
but
she
hadn
’
t
said
anything
about
that
.
It
was
her
first
meal
at
the
Wheatleys
’
.
Mr
.
Wheatley
had
already
left
for
Denver
on
business
and
would
be
away
for
several
weeks
.
A
photograph
of
him
sat
on
the
upright
piano
by
the
heavily
draped
dining
-
room
window
.
In
the
living
room
the
TV
was
playing
unattended
;
a
deep
male
voice
was
declaiming
about
Anacin
.
Mr
.
Wheatley
had
driven
them
to
Lexington
in
silence
and
then
gone
immediately
upstairs
.
He
came
down
after
a
few
minutes
with
a
suitcase
,
kissed
Mrs
.
Wheatley
distractedly
on
the
cheek
,
nodded
a
goodbye
to
Beth
and
left
.
“
They
wanted
to
know
everything
about
us
.
How
much
money
Allston
makes
a
month
.
Why
we
have
no
children
of
our
own
.
They
even
inquired
”
—
Mrs
.
Wheatley
bent
forward
over
the
Pyrex
dish
and
spoke
in
a
stage
whisper
—
“
they
even
inquired
if
I
had
been
in
psychiatric
care
.
”
She
leaned
back
and
let
out
her
breath
.
“
Can
you
imagine
?
Can
you
imagine
?
”
“
No
,
ma
’
am
,
”
Beth
said
,
filling
in
the
sudden
silence
.
She
took
another
forkful
of
tuna
and
followed
it
with
a
drink
of
water
.
“
They
are
thorough
,
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
said
.
“
But
,
you
know
,
I
suppose
they
have
to
be
.
”
She
had
not
touched
anything
on
her
plate
.
During
the
two
hours
since
they
arrived
,
Mrs
.
Wheatley
had
spent
the
time
jumping
up
from
whatever
chair
she
was
sitting
in
and
going
to
check
the
oven
or
adjust
one
of
the
Rosa
Bonheur
prints
on
the
walls
,
or
empty
her
ashtray
.
She
chattered
almost
constantly
while
Beth
put
in
an
occasional
“
Yes
,
ma
’
am
”
or
“
No
,
ma
’
am
.
”
Beth
had
not
yet
been
shown
her
room
;
her
brown
nylon
bag
still
sat
by
the
front
door
next
to
the
overflowing
magazine
rack
where
she
had
left
it
at
ten
-
thirty
that
morning
.
