People Who Knock on the Door by Patricia Highsmith Read Free Book Online

‘when Christ comes again’ in that magazine, does the writer mean it literally or someone resembling Christ?” Lois asked. “I find it vague, phrases like ‘plenty to eat’. All over the world do they mean?”
    Arthur felt like laughing, it was so ridiculous. Was Christ or somebody going to drop sacks of wheat or rice in the middle of a desert in Africa or wherever a million people were currently starving? Arthur had taken a look at Plain Truth , on his father’s orders, and found the articles so naive they might have been written for children younger than Robbie.
    His father took a long time swallowing.
    “It doesn’t read as if it’s symbolic, I mean,” Lois added. “I read that part about the danger of too much food and the need of experts to tell people how much rich food is good for them. Well”—she laughed a little—“some people patronize the experts now!—And how is Christ going to reach the people who aren’t Christians?”
    Arthur could hardly have said it better himself. He glanced at Robbie, who was listening attentively.
    “Oh, symbolic mainly,” said Richard. “And yet —with the right attitude and confidence in a superior God, all the fruits of life come, there’s no doubt about that. It’s just that the majority of people don’t give God’s laws a chance. Even many people who were in church today.” He looked at Arthur, then back to Lois. “Many trust entirely in material things—money—to bring in material goods.”
    And so did his father, Arthur thought. Did this chicken on the table drop from heaven?
    “What’re you doing with yourself this next week, Arthur?” asked his father during dessert.
    Arthur had thought of taking some books to a secondhand place and selling them, of going to the public library to take out some books to read just for pleasure, and he had also thought of going to the Grove Park tennis courts in the middle of town, maybe with Maggie, to bang a ball around for a couple of hours.
    “Done anything about finding a part-time job?” asked his father.
    “Not yet.”
    “Richard, he’s just had a whole week of exams,” said Lois.
    “And he’s got a free week ahead and the whole summer free as far as I know,” said Richard.
    And a few people Arthur knew were going away on vacations with their parents or by themselves. Burt Siegal and Harry Lambert were going to Europe together.
    “There’s Mrs. DeWitt over on Northside,” Richard said to Arthur. “She’s always in need of yard work.”
    Mrs. DeWitt was a widow who did nothing, as far as Arthur knew, except take in stray cats and bake cakes now and then for the church or the Red Cross. “All—right,” Arthur said quietly and grimly. “I can ask Mrs. DeWitt.”
    So after dinner, Arthur telephoned Mrs. DeWitt and asked if he could do any work for her in her yard.
    “Well, there’s always something to do.” She rambled on. When could he come? Today was a nice day. And how much would he want, because she wasn’t prepared to pay more than two dollars an hour, though some young fellows were demanding three or more.
    Arthur so detested even her voice, he seized the job with a bitter enthusiasm. “Two is fine , Mrs. DeWitt. Today? Four hours of daylight left, at least.”
    She demurred at four hours and suggested three.
    Arthur took his bike and departed. The DeWitt house was past the college dorms on Northside. The houses here were more modest than those on his parents’ street. He saw two of Mrs. DeWitt’s cats on her front porch. Mrs. DeWitt herself was an eyesore, and when she answered the bell, Arthur literally avoided looking at her more than he had to, which maybe gave him an evasive air, but he couldn’t help that. She wore flat old house-slippers, no stockings, and even her loose blue dress was dirty and full of food spots. A minute later, Arthur was gazing at her backyard, which looked like a city dump.
    “Oh, just stack some of the stuff to one side,” Mrs. DeWitt said, when