"Crazy, if you ask me," Robert said, "pretending they were scared of me and Bobby."
"There's a Patricia Beauty Shoppe next to the Pontiac agency," Dora suggested. "Maybe—"
"Funny way to get a name. Where the heck are they from?" Robert wondered.
"Must be from right here in town," Helen reminded him. "Otherwise they wouldn't be green."
"You know, the greenness looks sort of natural on them," Dora said thoughtfully. "Well, think I'll go to bed."
After she had gone, Helen said wistfully in a whisper, "If only awful things could sort of counteract each other the way some poisons do." She started making up the davenport bed; Dora had their room. "First Dora's coming, and our turning green, and now those crazy girls right next door. But three poisons—no, it wouldn't come out even."
It was a day or two later when Helen found her new neighbors working in the little flowerbed alongside their house. They were busily transplanting weeds of the kind responsible for the unpleasant odor.
"For goodness' sake!" Helen exclaimed, disgusted. "What in the world do you want with that stuff? Why, it took the rest of us here in the court days to get it all out and now you want to bring it back. Throw it away!"
"Oh, no!" Patricia Pontiac objected, holding a bunch of the weeds against her heart protectingly. "It's faneweed!"