“Some kind of outing?”
He laughed. “That’s right. The Young People’s League from the Methodist Church in Winook.”
“Hard group to keep entertained, huh?”
He made a face and said, “You know how it goes.”
The old man came back from the pump. “That’s two seventy-six, son. Took a little over ten.”
The driver paid and started for the door.
“See you around,” I said.
“Yeah, sure thing.”
I turned back to the old man and asked, “What do I owe you for the groceries?”
“Call it three and a quarter,” he said slowly, not taking his eyes off the window where the bus still sat while the driver worked the gas pedal. The aimless whirring finally caught and the bus lumbered off. “Something funny there. Real funny.”
“What do you mean?”
He came out of it, took my money, and leaned closer so even Fred
