Frobisher sighed. "Who are the Stanton boys, and why should I come look?" But he got up and came over to the window.
"See—over there on the walkway toward the play area," his wife said.
"I see a boy pushing a wheeled contraption and three girls playing with a skip rope," Frobisher said. "Or do you mean that the Stanford boys are dressed up as girls?"
"Stanton," she corrected him. "They just moved into the apartment on the first floor."
"Who? The three girls?"
"No, silly! The two Stanton boys and their mother. One of them is in that 'wheeled contraption'. It's called a therapeutic chair."
"Oh? So the poor kid's been hurt. What's so interesting about that, aside from morbid curiosity?"
The boy pushing the chair went around a bend in the walkway, out of sight, and Frobisher went back to his coffee while his wife spoke.
"Their names are Mart and Bart," she said. "They're twins."
"I should think," Frobisher said, applying himself to his breakfast, "that the mother would get a self-powered chair for the boy instead of making the other boy push it."