Actually, across the side fence . . .
Peering out of her dining room window, later on Christmas day, Marash girl spied her neighbor, an esteemed Boston lawyer, jumping up and down in his trash barrel, the barrel full to the brim with discarded Christmas wrappings, the neighbor vainly attempting to compact the wrappings into a manageable mass.
or...his modus operandi for a recalcitrant witness....or a local with political ambitions, and just getting the hang of how to treat the masses once the election is won...or his way of venting for ever thinking of law school...or his repressed anger over not getting that special fly rod for which he had hinted broadly ever since Thanksgiving...or, the only way he could clean up and exercise at the same time...or the real reason, after all...glad it was finally over...the inversion of a pentecostal glad fest.
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