confectionery—believes that the falling tiles do not in any sense indicate a desire on the part of the very late Mr. Nollop to remove these letters from our language. He believes, in fact, the exact opposite. That this is Nollop’s way of encouraging us to use these special letters more than ever before. They are being singled out for this purpose and this purpose alone.
He is founding a movement.
I was as of a moment ago interrupted by one of my customers. She reports that the tile containing the letter “D” has fallen. I don’t think this is mere rumor.
God save this doomsaken little island!
Sincerely
,
Rory Cummels
NOLLOPVILLE
Thursday, September 14
Dear Mr. Cummels,
(May I call you Rory?)
I do not fault you for your behavior on Tuesday. We are all on edge, some of us more so than others. I am so sorry to hear that your wife and daughters have left, and I truly understand how difficult it would be for you to emigrate as well. Your corner market has been a welcome fixture in the Village, and it would be a terrible loss to see it close.
This is not, perhaps, the appropriate time, but I should like to invite you to take coffee with me when an occasion proves convenient. I should like to hear more of your brother’s movement and your own opinion of it. I should like, as well, to seek your advice on other matters.
The news of “D” is, alas, all too true. I dare not even contemplate the attendant ramifications.
With all best wishes
,
Mittie Purcy
NOLLOPVILLE
Friday, September 15
Dear Mrs. Purcy,
Thank you for your kind invitation. I would be delighted to meet you for any beverage of your choosing. At the risk of being too forthcoming with regard to the details of my present situation I should state that my wife has left me not only in the proximital sense, but in the marital sense as well. Divorce, I’m afraid, is imminent.
I look forward to seeing you soon (in some milieu other than my store).
Sincerely
,
Rory Cummels
NOLLOPVILLE
Friday, September 15
Hello Neighbor,
You are invited to attend a showing of “Surf of Dreams,” a collection of seascapes and sky studies by Georgeanne Towgate.
Where: The Towgate front lawn.
When: Sunday, September 17.
Bring your checkbook and a smile.
Please! Silent, pantomimical bids only.
In the land of no “D,” silent reverence is king.
Georgeanne Towgate
[scribbled note at the bottom]
Mother, I found this taped to the front door. Does the name sound familiar? It’s that awful woman who reported your classroom slip. Know a good rainmaker?
Tassie
NOLLOPTON
Friday, September 15
Dear Cousin Tassie,
Much to tell and little time to tell it as the afternoon post goes out in less than forty-five minutes.
Last evening’s meeting was a pyrrhic success. Pyrrhic in that we had to turn more away than we would have liked, lest we betray, by our sheer numbers, the purpose behind our assemblage. And because word seemed to have spread among many whom we did not know, there was no discussion per se—only promises to meet again in smaller numbers, to ensure that knowledge of our secret confabettes would not spread to those with power to see us disbanded before we have even gotten started.
Funny, isn’t it, dear Cousin, to have a meeting, and an enthusiastically attended one at that—in which nothing gets discussed! Ah, but the things that went unsaid! And the things that shall be said and done when we feel safer and more secure in our gatherings.
You are right that Mr. Lyttle is the likeliest candidate from among the Pentapriests to see the chemists’ report, although I don’t trust any of the five to open their minds even a scintilla to such a pound-logical explanation for the tumbling of the tiles. And Lyttle
has
been somewhat the taciturn rubber-stamper of late. But perhaps it is because he has yet to be offered opportunity to stand on his own two callused, septuagenarian feet, thereupon to manipulate agenda for his own