“You bet I won’t.”
“Good night, then—”
“And good luck,” added Dorothy, switching on her flash.
“Good night, both of you—see you in the morning.”
He watched their light travel into the orchard and turned back to the empty house.
Dorothy and Bill reached the rear wall of the orchard and came to a stop. Although the storm had passed and with it the driving rain, heavy cloud formations obscured the stars.
“Better hop over the fence, Dorothy,” said Bill, “then I’ll pass these containers across to you. Gee whiz! It sure is some black night. You came up this way, didn’t you?”
“Yep.” Dorothy’s voice came from the other side where her light was flashing. “Hand over the cans. That’s right.”
Bill joined her and picked up his load again.
“The ground slopes down to the valley from here,” she said. “Drops would be a better word, I guess. It goes down like the side of a roof. Watch your step! This wet grass is slippery as ice.”