Chapter 2

           Theyeachhadtheirownroomandall. Theywerebotharoundseventyyearsold,orevenmorethanthat. Theygotabangoutofthings,though—inahalf-assedway,ofcourse. Iknowthatsoundsmeantosay,butIdon’tmeanitmean. IjustmeanthatIusedtothinkaboutoldSpencerquitealot, andifyouthoughtabouthimtoomuch,youwondered whattheheckhewasstilllivingfor. Imeanhewasallstoopedover,andhehadveryterribleposture, andinclass,wheneverhedroppedapieceofchalkattheblackboard, someguyinthefirstrowalwayshadtogetupandpickitupandhandittohim. That’sawful,inmyopinion. 

           Butifyouthoughtabouthimjustenoughandnottoomuch, youcouldfigureitoutthathewasn’tdoingtoobadforhimself. Forinstance,oneSundaywhensomeotherguysandIwereoverthere forhotchocolate,heshowedusthisoldbeat-upNavajoblanket thatheandMrs.Spencer’dboughtoffsomeIndianinYellowstonePark. YoucouldtelloldSpencer’dgotabigbangoutofbuyingit. That’swhatImean. Youtakesomebodyoldashell,likeoldSpencer, andtheycangetabigbangoutofbuyingablanket. 

           Hisdoorwasopen, butIsortofknockedonitanyway,justtobepoliteandall. Icouldseewherehewassitting.Hewassittinginabigleatherchair, allwrappedupinthatblanketIjusttoldyouabout. HelookedoveratmewhenIknocked. "Who’sthat?"heyelled. "Caulfield?Comein,boy." Hewasalwaysyelling,outsideclass. Itgotonyournervessometimes. 

           TheminuteIwentin,IwassortofsorryI’dcome. HewasreadingtheAtlanticMonthly, andtherewerepillsandmedicineallovertheplace,andeverythingsmelledlikeVicksNoseDrops. Itwasprettydepressing. I’mnottoocrazyaboutsickpeople,anyway.