It was going to rain. The weather forecast didn't say that, but the steel plate in his hip did. He had learned over the years to trust his hip over the weatherman. It was going to rain, so he better get outside and prepare.

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one’s cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.