When the gentleman go by, by Margaret Ronald, it wasn't a sound that woke her this time, nor the soft, slow

lights that came dancing through the curtains. She thought in that first awakening haze that it might be a scent,

like the bad air her mother had talked about, creeping in to announce their presence. Then full

wakefulness and knowledge struck her and her only thought was, not yet.

Laura rolled out of bed making sure not to disturb Jenny, who'd crawled in about an hour after

bedtime.

Toby, in the crib, slept like a swaddled stone.

The nightlight cast a weak gold glow over them,

but the first hints of blue had begun to creep in, cool and unfriendly.

She glanced back once at the sound of Jenny's whimper and turned her back on her sleeping children.

At least their father wasn't here.

It was an old bargain. Old as the hollow at least. With

bargains you had to uphold your side, she'd learned that early, probably before she

even knew about the gentleman.

Her bedroom and her parents' house had faced the street, and when she was five the changing

shapes of headlights across the far wall had fascinated her.

One night she woke to see a block of light against the far wall, flickering in all the

colors of frost. When the light stayed put, as if the car that cast had parked outside, she sat up in bed, then turned to the window.

The light was just outside, on the strip of green that her father liked to call the lawn.

She crawled out of bed, dropping the last couple of inches to the floor and

reached for the curtain. Don't look. Laura turned to see her mother standing in the doorway.

Mama? Her mother crossed the room in two strides and took Laura into her arms, cradling her head

...