“Despera Springs!” said the bus driver. “Fifteen minutes, stretch your legs.” He stopped the bus, cranked the door open, and stood up in the aisle and looked at each of us as if he were checking to see if we were all still there. “Ma’am,” he said to the little lady, “fifteen-minute stop. You might want to stretch your legs. Fifteen-minute stop, young fellow,” he said to the little boy. “Despera Springs. World’s roundest lake, you might want to take a look at it. I need you to help me with this, son,” he said to the Man of Music, jerking his head at the old man in the front seat. “Fifteen-minute stop, mister!” he said to the old man in a loud voice. “We gon’ get you some fresh air!” The Man of Music squatted down by the old man, put his arm around his shoulder, and said, “Get ready, buddy, we gon’ take a walk.” The bus driver grabbed the old man under the arms and the Man of Music grabbed him by the feet. Out of respect for his dignity, the little lady looked the other way while they bent the old man around the front seat and headfirst out the door and set him up on a bench on the sidewalk looking down over the town. In the distance we could see Lake Despera looking dark and still, the cupola of the Chautauqua building gleaming in the sunlight, and the big old houses on Circle Drive. It was all so peaceful it seemed as if there were no people but us in Despera Springs that day. The Man of Music lit two cigarettes and held one of them up to the old man’s face. His hands lay helpless in his lap, but he reached out his lips and plucked in the cigarette with a neat snap. He closed his eyes and smoked expertly and appreciatively, the whole bottom of his face wobbling with ecstasy. After a while the Man of Music pinched the cigarette away, flicked off the ash, then put it back into those reaching lips.

“Lucky Strike,” said the Man of Music. “Can’t go wrong.” Then it seemed as if he couldn’t be still. First he sat on the edge of the bench, smoking his cigarette and tapping his feet with his hands twitching between his knees. Then he stood up and walked halfway down to Lake Despera and back. He did a little shuffling dance in front of the old man, his cigarette between his teeth, his arms flopping loose at his sides. The little boy stood on the sidewalk and watched closely.