WHEN THE HOUSE WAS finally fairly clean, and minutes after Puddin’s departure, the phone rang. It was Sloan Jones from the paper. “Miss Myrtle, I’m getting ready to put together the paper for tomorrow and just wanted to see if you had anything for me.” His voice had a pleading quality to it, a sort of desperation it didn’t ordinarily have. Usually, he was very deferential to Myrtle, having been a student of hers many years ago. The paper must be in bad shape, indeed.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” said Myrtle.
“Do you? Oh, that’s wonderful, Miss Myrtle! You caught up with Luella White then? I knew y’all would hit it off when you finally managed to spend some time with her. You have a lot in common, after all.”
Myrtle paused. “Honestly, Sloan, I can’t think of a single thing that Luella W
