"When do I get the gas stove?" she said.
"Your local dealer will send it to you in a few days. Did you give them your address?"
"Yes, I gave it to them. My Philadelphia address, that is. I don't even remember my address at home any more."
"Come, now, Mrs. Dunny. You don't have to keep up that Mars business now that we're off the air."
"It's the truth and I didn't come here just by accident," said Mrs. Dunny, looking over her shoulder toward the attendant who was still holding the prizes. "I came here to see you."
"Me?"
Mrs. Dunny set the paper bag down on the floor and dug down into her pocketbook. She took out a dog-eared piece of white paper and bent it up in her hand.
"Yes," she said finally. "I came to see you. And you didn't follow me out here because you wanted to. I commanded you to come."
"Commanded me to come!" I spluttered. "What for?"
"To prove something to you. Do you see this piece of paper?" She held out the paper in her hand with the blank side toward me. "My address is on this paper. I am reading the address. Concentrate on what I'm reading."