![]() ![]() Kaplan, the camp director, called, "Who is it?" and Uncle stepped inside. Holding his hat against his chest and Tartufo's leash with one hand, he knocked on the office door with the other. Having a shine on his shoes was an Old World point of pride. With his handkerchief, he wiped first his forehead and then his shoes. He stood on the bottom of the three steps leading to the office door and flicked the dust from his hat and, as much as he could, from Tartufo's paws. Not until he was standing in front of the camp office did Uncle remove his Borsalino or put a leash on Tartufo. His hat was tan, his shoes brown, and his dog was white with brown spots, but by the time they arrived at the office, all were gray with gravel dust. He had bought his hat, his shoes, and his dog in Italy. Uncle walked those three dusty miles wearing wing-tip, leather-soled oxfords a long-sleeved, buttoned-up shirt suit jacket necktie and a Borsalino hat. It was July, and it had not rained for three weeks. ![]() The camp road was not paved but laid with rough gravel. ![]() The Greyhound bus had left him off at the point where the camp road meets the highway, and it was all uphill from there. Uncle Alex was sweating when he arrived at Camp Talequa. ![]()
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