When the Devil Drives

'It's all right, sweetie,' her father said gently, as the car gathered speedout of Northwaite. 'They've gone.''They're vile!' she said passionately, looking at the mud drippingdown the window. 'They've spoiled our car. And that big boy was theworst. He was laughing, making them do it. Who was he?'Her father'smouth compressed. 'I've no idea, Joanna,' he said repressively. 'I can'tbe expected to know the identity of louts from the slums.'Some instinct told her that he was not telling her the whole truth, butnow was not the time to pursue it. Instead, she bearded Harris whilehe was cleaning the motor which was his pride and joy.'Is the car going to be all right, Harris?''Reckon it will, Miss Jo. No great harm done.''That's good.' She stood watching him polishing the chrome. 'Why didthey do it, do you suppose? We didn't even know them.'Harris shrugged. 'Times are hard just now, Miss Jo, and tempers runhigh sometimes.''Oh.' Joanna wasn't sure what he meant, but there was somethingmore important she wanted to ask. 'Harris—that boy—the one whowas making the others throw stones at us. Who was he? My fathersaid he didn't know.''Happen he didn't recognise him, Miss Jo,' Harris said laconically.'He's been away to school and grown a fair bit since your father lastlaid eyes on him.' He snorted. 'That was Cal Blackstone, that was.'Now, nearly fifteen years on, Cal Blackstone said frowningly, 'Ifyou're going to remember things like that, remember them right. Theyweren't throwing stones, you little idiot, just clods of earth, and theodd empty can.'