h school. My worms looked like accordions."

"I understand you are a builder and a writer," Mo said, turning to
Morgan.

"I suppose so," he said.

"Damned good one," Joe said.

"What is your book about?"

"Houses of the Hudson Valley." Mo smiled broadly. That's Morgan, Joe
thought. He states the title of his book, a simple fact, and manages to
imply that the universe is a lunatic misunderstanding, that we are all
waiting at the wrong bus stop.

"Have you been working on it long?" Mo asked.

"Nine years."

"I could eat a mahi-mahi," Edie said.

They ended up at the restaurant, John Dominis, at a table with too many
glasses, sea bass, snapper, and mahi-mahi, salads, desserts . . . No
one wanted to stop. Morgan told a long story that began with a knock on
his door one winter afternoon. A Jehovah's Witness had wandered up the
mountain to proselytize. Morgan was so glad to see someone that he
invited him in and had a conversation about the Bible.

"Given their assumptions," Morgan said, "I thought I might discuss
their conclusions." The following week the witness returned with help.
Pots of tea, hours later, the witness and his help left, baffled,
promising to return with an elder. By spring, much of the church's
energy was directed at rebutting the doctrinal challenge from the
mountains. Morgan was invited to headquarters where an informal truce
was reached. "They are an efficient organization in many ways," Morgan
said grandly.

"Poor bastards," Joe said. "Morgan is difficult in debate, Mo. He got
out of the draft by writing so many complicated letters questioning
selective service procedures that they finally figured it would be
easier to classify him, 1Y."

"A successful campaign," Morgan said.

"Better than mine," Joe said.

"Could have been worse," Morgan reminded him.

"True." Joe explained to Edie and Mo that he'd enlisted in the Air
Force and decided, midway through his hitch, that war was wrong, that
people shouldn't kill each other. "Vietnam was heating up. The colonel
at my courts-martial listened to my speech, smiled at two lieutenants
who were doing on-the-job legal training, and said, 'Airman Burke, you
may persist in your attitude and I will sentence you to one year at
Fort Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary and a bad conduct discharge, or,
you can keep your mouth shut, serve the rest of your enlistment, and I
will sentence you to thirty days in the stockade, a five hundred dollar
fine, and