Birdwatcher, Sidetracked

quintain From my wheel chair facing their veranda I could not distinguish the girl next door. She looked somewhat like my niece, Miranda, except for her hair halfway to the floor. (Miranda always kept her hair shorter.) I turned the music down so I could hear the conversation that was taking place. Although I consider myself a seer who reads expressions on a person’s face, I discerned the voice of a reporter - well-known correspondent on radio. She posed some questions, most of which I missed. Once she turned her head towards me, just so and I caught one, clearly getting her gist. “Is your neighbor watching us from her deck?” Taking the hint, I retreated inside, unaware of how obvious I’d been. It was then I saw what she had descried. Eavesdropping had not caused her chagrin, ‘twas the field glasses hanging ‘round my neck.