Well, we had Z for zebra—provided the Trader was satisfied with a little piece of costume jewellery. It was lucky, I thought, that it hadn’t been Z for zephyr.
The rest of the alphabet was easy, yet I couldn’t help but kick myself over all the time we were wasting. Of all the unworthy catalogues we might have sent, that ABC book was the worst.
But until the Trader had run through the whole list, I was afraid to send another for fear of confusing him.
So I sent him an apple and a ball and a small doll for a girl and toy cat and toy dog, and so on, and then I lay awake nights wondering what the Trader would make of them. I could picture him trying to learn the use of a rubber doll or cat.
I’d given Lewis the two pairs of glasses, but had held back the fountain-pen fishing-rod, for I was still scared of that one. He had turned over the emotion gauge to a psychiatrist to try out in his practice as a sort of field test.
Marge and Helen, knowing that Lewis and I had entered into some kind of partnership, were practically inseparable now.
Helen kept telling me how glad she was that I had finally recognized what a sterling fellow Lewis was. I suppose Lewis heard the same thing about me from Marge.
Bill went around practically busting to do some bragging.
But Bill is a great little businessman and he kept his mouth shut.
I told him about the allowance, of course.