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

might be one one day,” he said, and was pleased by the approving glance that his mother gave him. Then the telephone rang, and Arthur felt sure it was Maggie, Maggie back suddenly, and wanting to speak with him. Richard anwered in the living room, and Arthur listened from the hall, dish towel in hand.
    “Ye-es—well, good. Glad to hear that.—Yes, he is, when he wants to be,” said his father, chuckling. “Not quite the same around our own house, I’m afraid. Ha-ha.”
    It was old Vera DeWitt, Arthur realized, praising him to the skies so she could have a little more of his slave labor.
    His father came into the kitchen smiling. “That was Mrs. DeWitt. She said you wrought a miracle in her yard, Arthur.”
    T HE AFTERNOON OF THE NEXT DAY , Arthur rode his bike to the woods on the town’s Westside. His mother had left for the home at 12:30 without lunch, and Robbie was lolling on the floor of his room amid Mad magazines and religious pamphlets, the latter given to him by their father. Something called The Waylighter had arrived on Saturday, a drab black-and-white publication, and Arthur supposed the family had a subscription to that now, too.
    He leaned his bike against a tree and walked on. Then ke kept his eyes on the ground. Sunday at Mrs. DeWitt’s, he had found a fossilized sea urchin the size of a golf ball and he had pocketed it. He had five or six such lined up on the table in his room behind his typewriter. When he had been younger than Robbie, he had found two ammonites, of which he was rather proud.
    Arthur wondered what he would be doing one year from now, even six months from now? Walking on some sidewalk in Manhattan? Would Maggie still care anything about him? Even remember him? That was a yes-or-no question, with nothing in between. Four more years ahead for both of them, if they both finished college! And at least two more for him, if he made anything of himself! Would any girl in her right mind wait for that?
    It was after 4 when Arthur got back home. He had a dead and dried out insect to look at under his microscope, a couple of mushrooms, too. Robbie’s cassette played Peter and the Wolf . Arthur closed his door, put his acquisitions from the woods on a corner of his table, and picked up a book by Jacques Monod, borrowed from the public library. He liked Monod’s combination of science and philosophy, even though he felt he did not understand it completely. It was interesting to imagine nothingness as something , as an entity, even though nothingness might never be proven to exist, except of course by theory.
    The telephone rang, and Arthur got up.
    “Hello, Arthur.” It was Maggie’s voice, with a smile in it.
    “You’re back?”
    “This afternoon. Mom said you phoned.”
    “Nice weekend?”
    “Ye-es,” she drawled, sounding oddly shy, as she often did.
    “Well—when can I see you?”
    “Tonight? At seven?”
    By 6:30 Arthur had showered, scrubbed his nails with care, scraped at his jaws with his razor, and put on white poplin trousers.
    “Maggie again,” said his mother as he strolled into the kitchen.
    His father was in the living room with the newspaper. “Don’t tell Dad I’ve got a date with her, would you, Mom?” Arthur whispered, frowning.
    “He’s got nothing against her! Bring her for dinner sometime.”
    Arthur got on his bike.
    Maggie looked prettier than ever in a pink and white shirt and blue slacks with a crease in them. Arthur found plump girls in sloppy slacks repellent. Maggie looked like a fashion model. She gave him a rum and Coke.
    “My dad’s home tonight,” Maggie said. “You probably won’t meet him, because he’s sleeping till dinner.”
    They had just returned to the living room, when Arthur saw a man coming down the stairs in a bathrobe and slippers.
    “Oh, sorry, Mag,” he said, stopping at the foot of the stairs. “Evening,” he said to Arthur. “Just looking for Sunday’s paper. Is it anywhere around?” He was tall and