Read The Road Through the Wall for Free Online Page B

really,” her sister said.
    Mrs. Ransom-Jones moved with determination, and her sister said, quickly, “Not
that
way, dear. By the street hedge.”
    â€œOh.” Mrs. Ransom-Jones stopped and looked around. “I thought you said over
here
,” she said.
    â€œWell, I
did
say by the street hedge,” her sister said, “but if you have a place you like better. . . .”
    â€œOf
course
not, sweetie,” Mrs. Ransom-Jones said. She started off again toward the corner of the garden. “Brad will think this is wonderful,” she said. “That’s just the spot for shy flowers.”
    â€œHe loves everything you do,” her sister said, following.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    It was evening, and the kids were all outside; Harriet could see them from her bedroom window, Miss Fielding could see them from her chair on the porch, Marilyn Perlman could see them from the living-room window, past her father’s head bent over papers at the desk. Early evening and twilight were always longer on Pepper Street than anywhere else; dinners were early up and down the block so the children could play longer; even Miss Fielding, who did not play, felt uncomfortable sitting down alone to her dinner later than anyone else, hearing the noise of dishes being washed at the Merriams’. Mrs. Perlman served dinner early because Marilyn might want to play with the other children.
    They played tag and hide-and-seek and long involved games with a line across the street from curb to curb and elaborate systems of bases and penalties. Mr. Desmond, who walked out for the evening air, met Mr. Roberts halfway down the block, and together they stood on the sidewalk and watched the game.
    â€œIf those young animals could put half that creative ability into their school work,” Mr. Desmond commented drily.
    â€œHealthy kids,” Mr. Roberts said. “Good to see.”
    They stood quietly in the half-darkness, smiling vaguely. Past them their own children and the children of their neighbors moved swiftly back and forth, following some ancient ritual of capture and pursuit, dance steps regulated as far as the placing of the feet. With a wild howl little Jamie Roberts made a capture in the gutter near his father, and Mr. Roberts took the pipe out of his mouth to say, “Good boy, Jamie.” He lifted his eyes to where, across the street, his older son sat with Pat Byrne on the Donalds’ lawn. They were half-watching the game, half-talking. Mr. Desmond followed his attention, and said quietly, “That’s a very good boy, that Art of yours. Bright kid.”
    Mr. Roberts sighed and turned to watch Jamie shrieking up the street.
    â€œI guess just anywhere where you could find a job,” Art Roberts was saying. “Anywhere not here.”
    â€œThey send you right back,” Pat Byrne said. “You can’t get a job because you’re too young, and they send you right back.”
    â€œIn another year, maybe,” Art said. “I could say I was eighteen.”
    â€œThey take you in the navy at sixteen,” Pat said, “I
think
.”
    Hallie cornered Helen for a minute, away from the glow of the street light, and said insistently, “Are you going to take someone? A friend?”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about,” Helen said, turning away.
    â€œTell me,” Hallie said insistently. “You said to him you’d take a friend?”
    Helen looked down on the top of Hallie’s head. “I said I’d take a
friend
with me, not a dirty little baby.”
    James Donald came out of his house, spoke to Art Roberts and Pat Byrne on his way down to the sidewalk. He was all dressed up, and when Mr. Roberts and Mr. Desmond saw him they smiled at one another and waved across the street to him. He stood uncertainly for a minute and then crossed over to where they stood and said, “Evening, Mr. Desmond,