The Lattimer Legend [antikvár]

chapter / ONE It was a perfect day for the Fourth of July. By nine o'clock in the morning everyone ín town knew it was going to be a real scorcher. The official temperature at the county airport was 97°; but the thermometer in Pokey Williams' filling station, which everyone regarded as more reliable than the one at the Weather Bureau, stood at 101°. The scalding air had turnéd the usually stiff-starched housedresses of the Ladies' Auxiliary of the American Légion limp and sweaty. Ali the good ladies toiled with iced tubs in the kitchen of the Légion Hall in their annual effort to avoid giving ptomaine poisoning to the whole town with the gallons of potato salad, sliced ham, deviled eggs, custard pies, lemonade, and watermelon they would serve for lunch after the patriotic speeches. Loreen Philby plucked fretfully at the wet place between her shoulder blades and said to Bonni Tuttle, "I swear, if they don't get a decent big refrigerator for this Hall before next summer, I'll never be on this food committee again!'* "FII never be on this food committee again even if they do get a decent big refrigerator," said Bonni Tuttle in her high nervous voice. "Fm gonna stay off all these committees next year even if I have to get pregnant to do it." The bunting was all hung around the platform built for the speakers in the town square. No one had thought to clean off the splatters of white bird droppings from the statue of the Union soldier. The hot air smelled of new-cut grass and dust in the square, and stirred with the flocks