Michael Malone - Weebly

of Dingley Falls. As far as she could tell, nothing much
was going on. The lawyer, Mr. Abernathy, stood on the
sidewalk as if he couldn't remember where he was
supposed to go next. Across the green, old Miss
Lattice scurried to Ransom Bank, probably to get
change for her Tea Shoppe. In the doorway of
Barnum's Antiques, Hobbies, and Appliances, that
creepy Mr. Barnum was ogling Joy Strummer,
smacking his lips. The Dingley Day office still had a
broken window; Mr. Hayes, the editor, didn't seem to
care. And at the far end of the green the bespectacled
Mrs. Vincent Canopy was driving the right front wheel
of her Volvo up onto the curb, where she left it. Mrs.
Ernest Ransom got out of the passenger door and
laughed.
Leaning into a left turn, Polly sped away from the
town center and gathered speed to climb Cromwell Hill.
At its top, in his Irish country hat, Father Highwick was
pestering his gardener, Sebastian Marco, who was
trying to transfer Red Sunrise dahlias in the solitude an
artist deserves. The rector had nothing to do, and for
sixty-six years he had never been able to bear being