The Sack of Silence
“WAIT TILL I TURNT HIS OFF. NOW.”
“That noise. Whatever is it?”
“The Hoover was running.”
“How’s that?”
“I said, I was running the vacuum.”
“Not that. Outside. Listen.” Rosie leaned over the banister.
“Oh, it’s the bee, dear.”
“Bee nothing. A thousand woodpeckers working on tin.”
“The working bee. You’ll see if you come down.” Mrs. Peale opened the front door. “Hammering nails into the elms. The whole town.”
“For heaven’s sake.”
“You make a circle of nails round the trunk of the tree. It’s supposed to stop the elm disease.”
“I see.”
“Didn’t you get the circular? And they came round, too, door to door. But then, you didn’t get up here last weekend.”
“No, that’s right, we stayed in town.”
“Nice when you can come up here weekends and be quiet. Don’t trip on the cord.”
Rosie closed the front door and crossed the hallway. “Some coffee, if it’s ready?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got the kettle on for a cup of tea. I’m going over to make cookies for my daughter’s boys when I’m finished here.”
The percolator was drawing great labored
