'Things started to crash and tinkle and break. Bottles, glasses, I don't know what all. And then the side window broke open and the kitchen table fell halfway through. With God as my witness. It was a big mahogany thing and it took the screen with it and it must have weighed three hundred pounds. How could a woman-even a big woman-throw that?” I ask her if she is implying something.

“I'm only telling you,” she insists, suddenly distraught. “I'm not asking you to believe-”

She seems to catch her breath and then goes on flatly:

“There was nothing for maybe five minutes. Water was dripping out of the gutters over there. And there was ice all over the Whites' lawn. It was melting fast.”

She gives a short, chopping laugh and butts her cigarette.

“Why not? It was August.”

She wanders aimlessly back toward the sofa, then veers away. “Then the stones. Right out of the blue, blue sky. Whistling and screaming like bombs. My mother cried out, 'What, in the name of God!' and put her hands over her head. But I couldn't move. I watched it all and I couldn't move. It didn't matter anyway. They only fell on the Whites' property.

“One of them hit a downspout and knocked it onto the lawn. Others punched holes right through the roof and into the attic. The roof made a big cracking sound each time one hit, and puffs of dust would squirt up. The ones that hit the ground made everything vibrate. You could feel them hitting in your feet.

“Our china was tinkling and the fancy Welsh dresser was shaking and Mom's teacup fell on the floor and broke.

“They made big pits in the Whites' back lawn when they struck. Craters. Mrs. White hired a junkman from across town to cart them away, and Jerry Smith from up the street paid him a buck to let him chip a piece off one. He took it to B. U. and they looked at it and said it was ordinary granite.

“One of the last ones hit a little table they had in their back yard and smashed it to pieces.