would have to go to school in the fall. before i could ask, there were other footsteps on the stairs, slower, heavier, and a soft knock at the door. i thought that this must surely be the runaway boy, that i’d get a chance to ask him all my questions, and that this extraordinary appearance would keep me from going clamming with grandfather, since great-grandmother would be sure to insist that i make him some sandwiches and warm up a bowl of chowder.
instead, my father appeared in the doorway. he looked smaller and younger up here, and when he spoke to great-grandmother his ears turned red and he looked at 