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           InLouisCreed’smemorythatonemomentalwaysheldamagicalquality—partly,perhaps,becauseitreallywasmagical,butmostlybecausetherestoftheeveningwassowild.Inthenextthreehours,neitherpeacenormagicmadeanappearance.

           Louishadstoredthehousekeysawayneatly(hewasaneatandmethodicalman,wasLouisCreed)inasmallmanilaenvelopewhichhehadlabeled"LudlowHouse—keysreceivedJune29."HehadputthekeysawayintheFairlane’sglovecompartment.Hewasabsolutelysureofthat.Nowtheyweren’tthere.

           Whilehehuntedforthem,growingincreasinglyirritated,RachelhoistedGageontoherhipandfollowedEileenovertothetreeinthefield.Hewascheckingundertheseatsforthethirdtimewhenhisdaughterscreamedandthenbegantocry.

           "Louis!"Rachelcalled."She’scutherself."

           Eileenhadfallenfromthetireswingandhitarockwithherknee.Thecutwasshallow,butshewasscreaminglikesomeonewhohadjustlostaleg,Louisthought(abitungenerously).Heglancedatthehouseacrosstheroad,wherealightburnedinthelivingroom.

           "Allright,Ellie,"hesaid."That’senough.Thosepeopleovertherewillthinksomeone’sbeingmurdered."

           "Butithurrrrts!"

           Louisstruggledwithhistemperandwentsilentlybacktothewagon.Thekeysweregone,butthefirst-aidkitwasstillintheglovecompartment.Hegotitandcameback.