"You try it." Now watch him squirm!
Porteous hesitated. "Would you like me to grow an extra finger, hair—"
"Grow some hair." Melinda tried not to smile.
The little man unstopped the vial, poured a shimmering green drop on his wrist, frowning.
"Must concentrate," he said. "Thorium base, suspended solution. Really jolts the endocrines, complete control ... see?"
Melinda's jaw dropped. She stared at the tiny tuft of hair which had sprouted on that bare wrist. She was thinking abruptly, unhappily, about that chignon she had bought yesterday. They had let her buy that for eight dollars when with this stuff she could have a natural one.
"How much?" she inquired cautiously.
"A half hour of your time only," said Porteous.
Melinda grasped the vial firmly, settled down on the sofa with one leg tucked carefully under her.
"Okay, shoot. But nothing personal."