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though, a shudder twisted up his back, and he thought suddenly of his Uncle Carl’s “showroom.” No new cars there, no televisions with all the modern features, no dishwashers with glass fronts so you could watch the magical sudsing action. Only boxes with their lids up, a carefully hidden spotlight over each. His father’s brother was an undertaker.
    Good God, what gave you the horrors? Let it go! Dump it!
    He kissed his son and went down to listen to Ellie tell about her first day at the big kid’s school.

8
    That Saturday, after Ellie had completed her first week of school and just before the college kids came back to campus, Jud Crandall came across the road and walked over to where the Creed family sat on their lawn. Ellie had gotten off her bike and was drinking a glass of iced tea. Gage was crawling in the grass, examining bugs, perhaps even eating a few; Gage was not particular where his protein came from.
    â€œJud,” Louis said, getting up. “Let me get you a chair.”
    â€œNo need.” Jud was wearing jeans, an open-throated work shirt, and a pair of green boots. He looked at Ellie. “You still want to see where yon path goes, Ellie?”
    â€œYes!” Ellie said, getting up immediately. Her eyes sparkled. “George Buck at school told me it was the pet cemetery, and I told Mommy, but she said to wait for you because you knew where it was.”
    â€œI do, too,” Jud said. “If it’s okay with your folks, we’ll take us a stroll up there. You’ll want a pair of boots though. Ground’s a bit squishy in places.”
    Ellie rushed into the house.
    Jud looked after her with amused affection. “Maybe you’d like to come too, Louis,”
    â€œI would,” Louis said. He looked at Rachel. “You want to come, honey?”
    â€œWhat about Gage? I thought it was a mile.”
    â€œI’ll put him in the Gerrypack.”
    Rachel laughed. “Okay . . . but it’s your back, mister.”
    *  *  *
    They started off ten minutes later, all of them but Gage wearing boots. Gage was sitting up in the Gerrypack and looking at everything over Louis’s shoulder, goggle-eyed. Ellie ranged ahead constantly, chasing butterflies and picking flowers.
    The grass in the back field was almost waist high, and now there was goldenrod, that late-summer gossip which comes to tattle on autumn every year. But there was no autumn in the air today; today the sun was still all August, although calendar August was almost two weeks gone. By the time they had reached the top of the first hill, walking strung out along the mown path, there were big patches of sweat under Louis’s arms.
    Jud paused. At first Louis thought it might be because the old man was winded—then he saw the view that had opened out behind them.
    â€œPretty up here,” Jud said, putting a piece of timothy grass between his teeth. Louis thought he had just heard the quintessential Yankee understatement.
    â€œIt’s gorgeous,” Rachel breathed and then turned to Louis, almost accusingly. “How come you didn’t tell me about this?”
    â€œBecause I didn’t know it was here,” Louis said, and was a little ashamed. They were still on their own property; he had just never found time to climb the hill in back of the house until today.
    Ellie had been a good way ahead. Now she came back, also gazing with frank wonder. Church padded at her heels.
    The hill was not a high one, but it did not need to be. To the east, heavy woods blocked any view, but looking this way, west, the land fell away in a golden and dozy late-summer dream. Everything was still, hazed, silent. There was not even an Orinco tanker on the highway to break the quiet.
    It was the river valley they were looking into, of course; the Penobscot, where loggers had once floated their timber from the northeast down to Bangor and Derry. But they were south