The driver turned on his heels andmarched toward them. I saw him waving his arms while the people from the van looked rather helpless atthe empty hous....I went in to my kitchen to get some ide coffee and when I came back out there was a flurrty of activitygoing on. People were getting the moving boxes off the truck and the side door to the hose was open. Iguess someone showed up finally.I drank my coffee and watched the whole parade of boxes and assorted furniture going from the truckinto the. Earlier I have told that I lived in number 11, but as you shall see I couldn't very well write the story about number 9 without involving myself, and to tell you the truth, I'm not too proud of my part in that story.In number 9 lived the younger of our two vicars with his wife. He was a tall, skinny and somber man, and from official records I knew him to be 46 years old. His wife was 8 years younger, and to the eye she was the typical vicar's wife, a demure, slight woman, always dressed in the. More

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