About this story
When his wife Miriam leaves for her aunt's and a creditor sets Monday as the deadline for seizure, Polly turns to the fire-insurance certificate on the wall for an answer no honest ledger could give him. The plan goes wrong the moment the flames do, and by dawn the whole street, including an old woman laughing from a burning upper window, needs saving instead.
How it opens
East wind worried the spring hedges while you sat on a stile behind the failing shop.
Mr JohnsonAfternoon, Polly. Business must be brisk if you can supervise fields from here.
The outfitter's window across the lane displayed collars no customer had disturbed all week.
Mr JohnsonRusper says three shops in the row cannot last through another winter.
Mr JohnsonThere, I have named the fear your missing accounts cannot keep hidden.
Choose
Three may fail, but only one has my name painted above it.
Rusper should count his bicycles and leave my collars alone.