Зима тревоги нашей

           Helookedbackatthefineoldhouse,hisfather’shouseandhisgreat-grandfather’s,white-paintedshiplapwithafanlightoverthefrontdoor,andAdamdecorationsandawidow’swalkontheroof.Itwasdeep-setinthegreeninggardenamonglilacsahundredyearsold,thickasyourwaist,andswellingwithbuds.TheelmsofElmStreetjoinedtheirtopsandyellowedoutinnew-comingleaf.Thesunhadjustclearedthebankbuildingandflashedonthesilverygastower,startingthekelpandsaltsmellfromtheoldharbor.

           OnlyonepersoninearlyElmStreet,Mr.Baker’sredsetter,thebanker’sdog,RedBaker,whomovedwithslowdignity,pausingoccasionallytosniffthepassengerlistontheelmtrunks.

           "Goodmorning,sir.MynameisEthanAllenHawley.I’vemetyouinpissing."

           RedBakerstoppedandacknowledgedthegreeting,withaslowswayofhisplumedtail.

           Ethansaid,"Iwasjustlookingatmyhouse.Theyknewhowtobuildinthosedays."

           Redcockedhisheadandreachedwithahindfoottokickcasuallyathisribs.

           "Andwhynot?Theyhadthemoney.Whaleoilfromthesevenseas,andspermaceti.Doyouknowwhatspermacetiis?"

           Redgaveawhiningsigh.

           "Iseeyoudon’t.Alight,lovelyrose-smellingoilfromtheheadcavityofthespermwhale.ReadMoby-Dick,dog.That’smyadvicetoyou."