“HOW OLD would Mrs. Jerrold be now?” asked Louise. I glanced at Albertine before answering. She smiled; neither of us winked. “Well,” I said, “she was about seventeen years older than I am, . . .

MY AUDIENCE for the reading of the twentieth episode of Dead Air, “Gratitude,” consisted of the inmates of Small’s Hotel (Albertine, Lou, Elaine, Clark and Alice, Artie and Nancy, Otto and Esther, Louise and Miranda), Suki and her boyfriend Daryl, and a quartet of Babbingtonians who stayed on after Sunday dinner.

LIZA THE REALTOR brought another flock of mixed nuts to the island. Like the earlier shoppers who had come to kick the tires, these people were not interested in running a hotel. . . .

“LET’S SEE what interesting things are happening outside the cave, boys and girls. Hand me the paper, will you, Bob?” . . .

“I CAN’T COUNT the number of times I have calculated money that I haven’t earned yet!” said Artie. “You, too, right, Lou?” He pointed at Lou and said to the rest of us, “Of course, my buddy Hamlet usually ends up actually making the money, isn’t that right, Lou?” “Yeah,” said Lou. . . .

I READ episode nineteen of Dead Air, “If Saucers Attack,” to a sizable Saturday audience that probably included a few lawyers and several potential litigants. . . .

THE DEMOLITION MAN arrived in the morning. Lou and I went over in the launch to pick him up. We had expected the man and his wife, but we found six people waiting at the town dock. . . .

GRUMPY CLUCK SAID, “Somebody should invent a detector that gives a readout on that, what you called the mood of the house. If you could invent a gadget like that, you’d make a lot more than you ever did on flying-saucer detectors.”

I REMEMBER the rest of the day as a cacophonous competition between Dexter and Grumpy Cluck, with the nod going to Dexter, who put in an hour’s overtime, to the surprise and annoyance of all the inmates, with the possible exception of Alice, who found this development “fascinating,” and recorded it on her chart. . . .

Chapter 18September 27No Worries, No Kidding

ALL OF US were on the porch, lined up in our rockers, waiting for Dexter’s dredge to start sucking sand and rending the air. When he started it up, we put our earmuffs on and sat there with our breakfast and our aspirin, watching him, at his mercy, . . .