I
know my wife, when she's in that frame of mind, arguing is pointless.
I resolved to do as I was told and hoped reason might prevail later.
I hurried to the utility room by the back door and retrieved the
washing line. By the time I'd got back to the living room, Mary had
dragged a dinning chair through. Oak groaned, but still hadn't
moved.
“Help
me get him in the chair,” she ordered.
I
grabbed Oak under his left shoulder while Mary took his right. “What
do you...” I started to say, but her look shut me up.
“Just
give me a hand will you,” was all she would say.
