Who Stopped That Clock

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At breakfast my sister, Ginny, kept frowning at a spot about three inches from her coffee cup. Mother and Dad were making a deal about the car, and who’d have it when. It was settled, and Dad put his nose back in the paper. Ginny muttered, “It’s all a matter of trust.” She didn’t say any more. Just kept frowning at that spot.

I could see it working on Dad. He sighed after a while and folded the paper and put it aside. “By now I should know better. What is a matter of trust?”

Ginny looked at him and her eyes went wide and blank. “What, Dad?”

“You said just now that something was a matter of trust. The statement seemed a bit incomplete.”

“Oh, that! Well, I guess I was thinking about rules and things. I mean, if you trust someone, you don’t have to thrust them into a prison or anything.”

My mother’s mouth tightened. There was a gleam in her eyes. “Better watch it. Hal,” she said to Dad.

“Is anyone being imprisoned?” Dad asked, very softly.

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