"Well, Hal, I'll admit that. I just don't think Balderstone's approach is any solution." Neff laughed. "There's not really much solution to anything." He leaned back into the shadows in the booth corner. "You're as interested in our town as anybody, aren't you, Glenn? Growing up here, playing in the Little League, attending Grover Cleveland High." "Sure. That's why I hate to see it taken over by some crackpot cult." "You're entitled to your opinions. Just don't hand them out in the form of leaflets." "About that permit?" "Well, Glenn, you know how tangled in red tape any government gets. It'll take time. Even with me putting the spurs to everybody. Uh, you're leaving the first part of September?" "Yeah, when school opens." Wheelan pushed his glass away and slid out of the booth. "It'll take until early September to get the permit, huh?" "No. With me seeing to it you should have it by the end of August." He stood and shook hands. Something about shaking hands with Chief Neff unsettled Wheelan. Trying not to show it, he walked with Neff out into the light. * * * * * Wheelan was squatting, studying the bottom shelves of his aunt's refrigerator. He looked into an opened tin of smoked oysters, then decided against making a sandwich. He opened a can of beer and sat down at the white-topped table. This was the night his aunt went out to Balderstone's. Wheelan shivered. They even had special buses running out there. The doorbell rang, or rather chimed a tune that had been a favorite of his aunt's during prohibition. Karen Wylie was standing on the front porch in a big tan coat. "Hi," she said. "Busy?" "Pretty much." She glanced at his hand. "Can I have a beer?" Wheelan moved back so she could enter. After he'd taken her coat and brought her a beer Karen said, "What are you up to now?" "Well, I sent letters to both our local papers, but they haven't been printed. I suppose you know about my trying to hand out leaflets last week. Then I tried to rent a soundtruck, but Neff says I need a permit for that, too." He sat down on his aunt's chintz-covered sofa. "Now I'm doing a mail campaign." "Why don't you give up?" Karen watched him with an anxious expression. "What good are you doing?" "I think that every citizen has a right to act as he chooses. I mean, when an evil exists it's the individual's right to try to combat it." "With leaflets?" "In any way he can," Wheelan said. She smiled. "You just look silly. And you'll annoy people. Really, Glenn, what's wrong with all this? You're just judging others by your own standards. All this talk about good and evil." "I don't think people should turn into cats. If they have to, I don't think our town should encourage them." He clenched his fists. "Why, they've got signs on the road now, telling how far it is to Balderstone's temple, or whatever he calls it." "There's certainly nothing unethical in advertising, Glenn. You're not that narrow-minded."