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everyone was in a state of tension, as if expecting a bomb to drop.
    It was the warden himself who was producing the tension. She became increasingly sure of that as he talked. The man was terribly in earnest, everything he said was quite true, but he was scaring people instead of reassuring them. “I want to speak about carelessness in leaving lights on,” he said heavily. “You have all been asked to remove the bulbs from your illuminated street numbers. Don’t you know that those can be seen for miles in the air, and that an enemy airman is instructed to bomb any light that’s showing? If Grettry Road is blown to bits, it might be the fault of just one of those numbers.”
    â€œWell, why tell us about it?” said Harry Gillespie defiantly. “We’ve all fixed ours. It’s the Carmichaels you’re talking about, as we—”
    â€œThe Carmichaels?” Peter Frey burst in obliviously. His eyes had been going from face to face, desperately trying to catch up with moving lips. “Are you talking about them? They’re to be away for a few weeks, and they asked me particularly to see that their flowers were all picked; so please take any you want, everybody.”
    â€œDaddy!” Claris shook his arm and he subsided, lowering patient eyelids. “If the Professor doesn’t have to come,” she added, “I don’t see why Dad should.”
    â€œI appreciate it,” said Hollister sharply. “Anything that’s done in the way of coöperation is a little bit of help to me. Lord knows I don’t get much. Now I’ve got to watch for the old ladies to come back, and go speak to them about that light. I’m the fall guy. I’m the only one available up here to do the dirty work, and I’m rushed to death as it is.”
    â€œListen, Mr. Hollister,” Ricky Devlin said eagerly, “you could use me any time, you know I told you that.”
    â€œNow, son,” said Hollister impatiently, “we’ve been over that before. The grown men would all have to be out of the way before they could use you.” He added slyly, “You’ve got business of your own at night, anyhow.” Ricky gave him a swift look.
    â€œYes, Ricky darling,” said Mrs. Devlin fondly, “you’re far too young, you’re just a baby yet.”
    An agonized silence followed this remark. Everyone mercifully avoided looking at Ricky, but from the corner of her eye Georgine saw his clasped hands tightening until the knuckles glistened. He caught his breath sharply as if to say something, but Mrs. Devlin, all unaware, went on, “And certainly it won’t ever be necessary. We haven’t even had a blackout for months, and I do think this hysteria is bound to die down soon. We work ourselves up over something that can’t happen at all!”
    â€œBut it can, Mrs. Devlin,” said Hollister grimly, “That’s what I keep tellin’ you—any night, any minute. What’s more, the next blackout is like as not to be the real thing. And let me tell you, when it comes I want every one of you to get in his refuge room and stay there. None of this hoppin’ out into the street to look up at the pretty planes, none of this standin’ by uncovered windows where you can get glass splinters through your eye.”
    Without lifting his head from his chest, Ralph Stort said, “Oh, for Chri’ sake , Hollister.”
    Roy Hollister’s face grew a shade more florid. “Good God, what you people need is to have a few bombs dropped on you! I hope they do fall. You’d obey orders fast enough then. And we’ve got to be ready. Lord, we’re not half covered, up here. We ought to have a day warden, and there’s nobody to serve; Gillespie needs his sleep after he’s been at the shipyards all night—”
    â€œDamn’ good of you to be so considerate,” said Mr. Gillespie, in a