“What could be?” I says. “Cant I come home in the middle of the afternoon without upsetting the whole house?”
“Have you seen Quentin?” she says.
“She’s in school,” I says.
“It’s after three,” she says. “I heard the clock strike at least a half an hour ago. She ought to be home by now.”
“Ought she?” I says. “When have you ever seen her before dark?”
“She ought to be home,” she says. “When I was a girl …”
“You had somebody to make you behave yourself,” I says. “She hasn’t.”
“I can’t do anything with her,” she says. “I’ve tried and I’ve tried.”
“And you wont let me, for some reason,” I says, “So you ought to be satisfied.” I went on to my