He stuck the telegram behind the radishes and looked out the door. Mrs. Tilton was coming with a basket on her arm.
"You heard the child again, Mr. Coat?"
"Perhaps ... I was mistaken."
"Strange, I saw nobody." She put the basket on the kitchen table; it was filled with peas. "Did you have enough coffee?"
He nodded.
"Aren't you feeling well?"
"I ... am fine. Yes."
The executioner looked as if she could not make up her mind about him. Then she smiled. She brought out a wooden bowl, and sat down at the table to shell the peas.
"Why don't you take your walk now? You'll enjoy our little market place."
"Yes." Such a nice day, he thought, shuffling to the window. Spring.