"Gee, I'm sorry," Bobby said. "I wanted to tell you in the yard. I knew there was going to be a rumble, but I couldn't snitch."
"No, of course not." Ward shooed him off. "Go write your poem."
"But tigers!" Ann said. "Why tigers, John?"
"I suppose they were convenient."
"Tigers are never convenient."
He crossed the room, picked up the phone and dialed. After a brief conversation, he turned back to her. "Well, now we know where they came from," he said. "The zoo. Disappeared for about half an hour. Then reappeared again."
"I don't care where they came from," his wife said. Her dark head was bent over some work in her lap. "What difference does it make whether they came from the zoo or from Burma? The point is, bringing them in is dangerous—it's hooliganism, and don't tell me that boys will be boys."
"It doesn't show very mature judgment," he admitted. "But Bobby and his pals aren't very old."
"Only about four hundred and eighty-five years old, according to his I.Q. Do you think it was Bobby?"