4083. THAT OLD MANSION

THAT OLD MANSION BY
THE APOTHECARY SHOP

Well, old man, it had many grave windows too,

all looking out onto the blustery shore. No, you

couldn't see it of course, but it just felt as if it

were there : copper-limbed light dipping down

from the treetops to linger and stay. I do so well

remember you there  -  Mr. Henderson, and all

those underfoot chickens you kept in the yard. The

eggs, a dollar-twenty-five a dozen and a minute of talk.

You said your wife 'was sick inside'  -  you meant,

I remember, in the house, of course, but I mistook

it to mean she had a growth or cancer, or something

mortal. We laughed, but it was all very hesitant  -  as

it turned out, she did, and died. I was sorry for months

after. Now, you too are gone : that old place is near

crumbling, and where are all those chickens, Mr. H.,

where are all those chickens now?