Miss Shumway Waves A Wand

While he was staring at them, I wandered round looking at the wax models. I began to suspect where Myra was hiding. Sure enough, one of them looked familiar. I looked again and Myra met my eyes imploringly. She had on a smart black frock and a large floppy hat which hid her face. Standing with the other models, it was impossible to spot who she was until you got right up to her.

“Go away,” Myra hissed. “Don’t look at me.”

“But I must look at you,” I said in an undertone. “I love you for one thing and you look terrific for another. Are you scared, sweetheart?”

“Terribly,” she said. “But, do go away.”

“I’m going,” I said, “but I’ll be back.”

As I turned away, one of the saleswomen came to me.

“Hello,” she said.

I looked at her and paused. She was a red-head. Now, I like red heads. I like them particularly if they have a nice creamy skin, green eyes and a lot of curves. This one had everything, so I said, “Hullo,” and raised my hat.

“Were you thinking of buying that dress?” she asked, smiling. “I’d just love to help you.”

I glanced over at Clancy. He was still trying to explain himself to the indignant women.

“It did cross my mind,” I said cautiously, “but I’ve got nothing to fill it with when I get it home.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” she said, sidling a little closer. “The trouble is having too many girls and not enough dresses to go round.”

“I like it that way,” I said simply. “I’m a man of nature.”

She blinked just once, but it didn’t stop her entirely.

“There’s something in my book of rules about men of nature,” she said, looking puzzled. “I just can’t remember what it was right now.”

“Lady,” I said earnestly, “you don’t need any rules. You ought to get along all right by your instincts.”

“That’d be like driving a car with no brakes,” she said. “I know my instincts better than you.”

She began to interest me.

“Maybe we’ll go for a drive together one of these days,” I said hopefully.

“Let’s not make too many plans,” she returned. “Let’s concentrate on this dress.” She turned back to Myra. “Don’t you think I’d look cute in it?”

“Not half so cute as without it,” I said hurriedly.

“I don’t think I like that remark,” she said. “It doesn’t indicate a sound business footing.”

“Who cares about a business footing?” I returned. “Let’s go somewhere and forget business.”

“Keep concentrating on this dress,” she said insistently. “I know I’d look good in it. Let me put it on and show you.”

“Some other time” I began, and stopped because she had put her hand on Myra’s arm.

“It’s awfully attractive,” she said wistfully. Then a look of puzzled fright entered her eyes and she pressed Myra’s arm.

I hastily took her hand away. “I used to be a palmist,” I said. “Let me read your lines.”

“So long as we’re thinking of the same lines,” she returned, trying to smile, but all the time she kept staring at Myra with growing uneasiness. “Do you know that dummy felt almost human,” she went on in a low voice.

“Yeah?” I said, patting Myra’s hip. “Isn’t it marvelous what they do with papier mŕché these days?”

I still kept hold of her hand and she began to calm down. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Myra move. Still keeping her fixed pose, she rose a foot into the air and remained there. I came out in a cold sweat

The red bead had her back to Myra, so she didn’t see what was going en. I put my hand on Myra’s shoulder and pushed her back on her stand again and held her there.

“Can you really read my lines?” the red head asked.

“Well, I took a correspondent course a few months back,” I said, feeling like hell. “I can only read the past up to now, but I hope to get around to the future sometime next week.”

I released Myra for a second. She began to rise off the ground, so I hung on to her again. The red-head hastily snatched her hand from mine. “I’ll wait until next week,” she said, “I know all about my past. That’s something I like to keep to myself.”

That came as no surprise, but I didn’t tell her so.

“You seem to like that model,” she said, “or can’t you make up your mind?”

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to hold Myra and just for a moment, she succeeded in rising a few inches before I slammed her back again.

The red-head drew in a sharp breath. “Is—is it trying to get away?” she said fearfully.

“There’s a draught in this joint,” I explained. “These models are mighty light.”

She backed away. “You know I don’t like that old model,” she said. “I just don’t like it at all.”

Clancy, who had got rid of the indignant women, joined us. He was sweating freely and he looked mad.

“What are you pawing that dummy for?” he demanded.

“I’m that kind of a guy,” I said desperately. “I go for dummies in a big way.”

The red-head said, “There’s something about that old model. It’s trying to fly away.” Clancy looked at her suspiciously. “What do you mean… fly away?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But that’s what it’s trying to do.”

“Pay no attention to her, Clancy,” I said quickly. “She’s not herself to-day.”