At the corner of High Street, where the lane led back to the stables of the Lake View Inn, Janice Day stopped suddenly, startled by an eruption of sound from around an elbow of the lane-a volley of voices, cat-calls, and ear-splitting whistles which shattered Polktown's usual afternoon somnolence. One youthful imitator expelled a laugh like the bleating of a goat: "Na-ha-ha-ha Ho Jim Nar-ha-nay There's a brick in your hat " Another shout of laugher and a second boy exclaimed: "Look out, old feller You'll spill it "