"Now," Mrs. Morgan says. "The phone's over there. Do you know Mr. McGill's number?"

       I nod again. I knew I'd have to call him, planned to do it tomorrow, but I didn't think Mrs. Morgan would make me do it so soon.

       Like she was reading my mind, she said, "This is something you have to do for yourself. You can't go on this way." I couldn't argue with that, so I went to the phone.

       "Lucas McGill," he said.

       My voice cracks and I squeak it out. "This is John Hanson."

       No sound. Then he says, "So, the lost one turns up. What's going on?"

       I explain to him about where I was and wanting to square things with him. I thought he'd be glad I called in. Or at least surprised. Instead he just tells me he'll be there in about two hours and to stay right where I am. Then he asks to talk to Mrs. Morgan.

       I figure two hours will take forever to go by, but I'm so tired I fall right asleep in an easy chair in the living room. When I wake up, I look at the clock on the mantle. I'd been asleep almost three hours. Mr. and Mrs. Morgan sit side by side on the couch, each reading a piece of the newspaper.

       "Have a good sleep?" he asks. "Mr. McGill should be here any time."

       I look out through the hall to the front door and then to the sliding door at the end of the room. For one long minute I think about making a run for it. Getting out of here while I can. Then I know it's all over. No use trying to run. I'll have to go back to Fire Oak.

       I watch the clock over the fireplace, trying to guess when the minute-hand will move next. Four minutes. Five. The doorbell rings.