«David, are you sure?»

I laughed and hauled my arm around her neck. «No, actually, I'm bullshitting like crazy. If I was sure, I'd be doing the weather on the six-o'clock news. Go on and make your shopping list.»

She gave me one more doubtful glance, looked at the fogbank for a moment or two with the flat of her hand held up to shade her eyes, and then shook her head. «Weird,» she said, and walked away.

For Billy, the mist had lost its novelty. He had fished the flag and a tangle of lanyard out of the water. We spread it on the lawn to dry.

«I heard it was wrong to ever let the flag touch the ground, Daddy,» he said in a businesslike, let's-get-this-out-of-the-way tone.

«Yeah?»

«Yeah. Victor McAllister says they lectercute people for it.»

«Well, you tell Vic he's full of what makes the grass grow green.»

«Horseshit, right?» Billy is a bright boy, but oddly humorless. To the champ, everything is serious business. I'm hoping that he'll live long enough to learn that in this world that is a very dangerous attitude.

«Yeah, right, but don't tell your mother I said so. When the flag's dry, we'll put it away. We'll even fold it into a cocked hat, so we'll be on safe ground there.»

«Daddy, will we fix the boathouse roof and get a new flagpole?» For the first time he looked anxious. He'd maybe had enough destruction for a while.

I clapped him on the shoulder. «You're damn tooting.»

«Can I go over to the Bibbers' and see what happened there?»

«Just for a couple of minutes. They'll be cleaning up, too, and sometimes that makes people feel a little ugly.» The way I presently felt about Norton.

«Okay. Bye!» He was off.

«Stay out of their way, champ. And Billy?»