"Oh, no. I'm an engineer. I was just satisfying my own curiosity."
"Uh-huh." Dawes looked reflective. "You wouldn't be thinkin' about
writing us up or anything. I mean, this is a pretty private affair."
"Writing it up?" Sol blinked. "I hadn't thought of it. But you'll have
to admit--it's sure interesting."
"Yeah," Dawes said narrowly. "I guess it would be."
"Supper!" Mom called.
After the meal, they spent a quiet evening at home. Sally went to bed,
screaming her reluctance, at eight-thirty. Mom, dozing in the big chair
near the fireplace, padded upstairs at nine. Then Dawes yawned widely,
stood up, and said goodnight at quarter-of-ten.
He paused in the doorway before leaving.
"I'd think about that," he said. "Writing it up, I mean. A lot of folks
would think you were just plum crazy."