At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. But in the early days of her abduction, she did not allow him to touch her. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. At last his voice came to release her tension. The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children.
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