Chapter 1

           ForaweekMr.R.Childanhadbeenanxiouslywatchingthemail. ButthevaluableshipmentfromtheRockyMountainStateshadnotarrived.AsheopeneduphisstoreonFridaymorningandsawonlylettersonthefloorbythemailslothethought, I’mgoingtohaveanangrycustomer. 

           Pouringhimselfacupofinstantteafromthefive-centwalldispenserhegotabroomandbegantosweep; soonhehadthefrontofAmericanArtisticHandcraftsInc. readyfortheday,allspickandspanwiththecashregisterfullofchange,afreshvaseofmarigolds,andtheradioplayingbackgroundmusic. OutdoorsalongthesidewalkbusinessmenhurriedtowardtheirofficesalongMontgomeryStreet.Faroff,acablecarpassed;Childanhaltedtowatchitwithpleasure. Womenintheirlongcolorfulsilkdresses…hewatchedthem,too. Thenthephonerang. Heturnedtoanswerit. 

           "Yes,"afamiliarvoicesaidtohisanswer.Childan’sheartsank."ThisisMr.Tagomi. DidmyCivilWarrecruitingposterarriveyet,sir?Pleaserecall;youpromiseditsometimelastweek." Thefussy,briskvoice,barelypolite,barelykeepingthecode. "DidInotgiveyouadeposit,sir,Mr.Childan,withthatstipulation? Thisistobeagift,yousee. Iexplainedthat.Aclient." 

           "Extensiveinquiries,"Childanbegan,"whichI’vehadmadeatmyownexpense,Mr.Tagomi,sir,regardingthepromisedparcel,whichyourealizeoriginatesoutsideofthisregionandistherefore—" 

           ButTagomibrokein,"Thenithasnotarrived." 

           "No,Mr.Tagomi,sir." 

           Anicypause.