to see some summer-stock performance in which I was totally uninterested. Fortunately, she didn't mind going alone, so I was spared.
"I spent the evening in the living room of the place, with about a dozen others who were likewise not caught up in the stampede to see a third-rate play just because, like Mount Everest, it was there. Besides me, there was a man, his wife, and their son, who figured in what was about to happen. The man was a rather stiff, unsociable fellow, his wife was passive and quiet, and his son was about twelve years old, well-behaved, and clearly very bright. Their name was Winters.
"Then there was a woman who my wife and I referred to, in private, as 'the Tongue.' Her name, if I remember correctly, was Mrs. Freed. She seemed a good-natured woman and had a rather lively mind, but what was most noticeable about her was her perpetual stream of talk. She never seemed to stop except when someone else managed to insert a remark by main force. Hers wasn't an unpleasant voice; it wasn't rasping, or shrill, or hectoring. It might even have been considered a pleasant voice, if there had been less of it.
"Her husband walked with a slight stoop, I remember, as though he were forever breasting the wind of that unceasing vocal current. Needless to say, he rarely spoke.
"There were six other people, if I remember correctly, two couples and two spare men who were either single or, like me, with their wives at the play. I don't remember which.
"The Tongue was knitting skillfully, and I sat watching her fingers as they kept time with her words, and between the two I was hypnotized into a semi-coma that was not at all unpleasant. Periodically, as she pulled at her yarn, her large ball of wool rolled to the floor, and each time she scrambled after it. One time it rolled in the direction of the Winterses, and the young boy leapt for it and returned it to her. She thanked him effusively and patted him and smiled. It occurred to me at the time that she had no children of her own and that her heart yearned when she saw those of others.
"Then at one point she reached into her purse for a mint - I suspect she needed a steady supply to keep her tongue lubricated - and the zipper on the purse opened with a rasp. There were, in fact, several rasps, for it was a multicompartment purse and, of course, she had to find which compartment contained the mints.
"One of the other women managed to insert a statement of marvel at what an unusual purse it was. It was, too, for it was quite thick. The Tongue said, as near as I can get across her way of speaking, 'Unusual indeed I bought it in a little store in New Orleans and now the store is gone and the company that made it is out of business and really whenever I find something I like they stop making it at once you see this purse has seven zippers and seven compartments three of the zippers are inside a bit and I can have a different compartment for my lipsticks and my money and my papers and my letters I have to mail and so on they're all lined with slick material so I can empty any or all the compartments when I have to and nothing ever stays behind when I change purses though heaven knows I never want to change this one I'll show you, let's see - '
"That's the way she spoke, you understand, making no use of punctuation. Then, in her effort to show how her purse worked, she started rasping the zippers again, looking for a compartment she could empty without creating too much trouble for herself, I suppose.
"When she finally decided, she turned the purse upside down, gave it a shake, and out came flying a small shower of coins and costume jewelry.
" 'Nothing left behind,' she said triumphantly, spreading the opening apart and showing it to the woman who had asked. She then put everything back, and again there was the rasp of zippers as she tried to decide on another compartment to empty, but apparently thought the better of it. She put the purse down and continued talking.
"I remember this incident well and repeated it to show you that in the novelty business, we have to keep our ears