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“There ain't no more. You drunk it all up.”
    “Goddamn lyin’ bitch,” shouted Lucas. “You hid it. Tell me where it is or I'll beat your goddamn lousy hide right off you.”
    Nellie screamed again, sharp and shrill, and Dr. Swain turned away from the shack door feeling slightly nauseated.
    I suppose, he thought, that the unwritten law about a man minding his own business is a good one. But sometimes I just don't believe it.
    He walked toward the road, but before he had gone more than a few steps, he tripped and almost fell over a small figure crouched on the ground.
    “For Christ's sake,” he said softly, reaching down and gripping a girl's arm. “What are you doing out here in the dark?”
    The girl broke away from him. “What are you doing here yourself, Doc?” she asked sullenly. “Nobody sent for you.”
    In the meager light that came through the shack windows, the doctor could barely discern the girl's features.
    “Oh,” he said. “It's Selena. I've seen you around town with the little MacKenzie girl, haven't I?”
    “Yes,” said Selena. “Allison is my best friend. Listen, Doc. Don't ever say anything to Allison about this ringdangdo here tonight, will you? She wouldn't understand about such things.”
    “No,” said Dr. Swain, “I won't say a word to anyone. You're the oldest of the children here, aren't you?”
    “No. My brother Paul is older than me. He's the oldest.”
    “Where is Paul now?” demanded the doctor. “Why isn't he putting a stop to the goings on inside?”
    “He's gone to see his girl in town,” said Selena. “And what are you talking about anyway? There's nobody can stop Pa when he gets drunk and starts fighting.”
    She stopped talking and whistled softly, and a little boy came running from behind a tree.
    “I always come outside when Pa starts,” said Selena. “I keep Joey out here, too, so Pa won't get after him.”
    Joey was small and thin, and not more than seven years old. He stood behind his sister and peered timidly at the doctor from around her skirt. A fierce anger filled the old man.
    “I'll put a stop to this,” he said, and started once more toward the door of the shack.
    Immediately, Selena ran in front of him and put her hands against his chest.
    “You want to get killed?” she whispered frantically. “Nobody sent for you, Doc. You better get back to Chestnut Street.”
    A continuous wailing came from the shack now, but the screaming had stopped and Lucas’ voice was still.
    “It's all over with anyhow,” said Selena. “If you went in now, it would just get Pa all worked up again. You better go, Doc.”
    For a moment the doctor hesitated, then tipped his hat to the girl.
    “All right, Selena,” he said. “I'll go. Good night.”
    “Good night, Doc.”
    He was back on the road when the girl ran and caught up to him. She put her hand on his sleeve.
    “Doc,” she said, “me and Joey want to thank you anyway. It was nice of you to stop by.”
    Like a lady bidding her guests farewell after the tea party, thought the doctor. It was nice of you to stop by.
    “That's all right, Selena,” said Dr. Swain. “Any time you'd like to have me come, just let me know.”
    He noticed that although Joey was directly behind Selena, the little boy never spoke a word.
♦ 7 ♦
    Lucas Cross had lived in Peyton Place all his life, as had his father and grandfather before him. Lucas did not know where his ancestors had come from originally, and this fact did not bother him at all, for he never thought of it. If he had been asked, he would have been dumfounded by the stupidity of such a question and, shrugging, would have replied, “We always lived right around here.”
    Lucas was a woodsman of a now-and-then variety common to northern New England. Professional lumbermen regarded the forests with respect, knowing that the generations before them had abused the woods, felling them flat without a thought toward conservation and replanting, and approached them