Nine oclock?

Ten oclock.

I have to have bed check for the men at ten oclock. What about eleven oclock?

I think I can make eleven oclock. Let me look in my book.

She looked in her book.

Eleven oclock, then, she said, writing a note in her book. Under the trees?

Under the stars, said Thomas.

The trees, said Julie, looks like rain.

If no rain, then the stars, said Thomas. If rain, then the trees.

Or the hedge, said Julie. Wet and dripping. Mulchy.

What are you arranging? asked the Dead Father. Could it be an assignation?

Nothing, said Julie. Nothing you should concern yourself about, dear old soul.

The Dead Father flang himself to the ground.

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