Part 51 (1/2)
”Is that Billie?”
”It is not Billie, whoever Billie may be. I am female, George.”
”So is Billie.”
”Well, you had better run through the list of your feminine friends till you reach me.”
”I haven't any feminine friends.”
”None?”
”That's odd.”
”Why?”
”You told me in the garden two nights ago that you looked on me as a pal.”
George sat down abruptly. He felt boneless.
”Is--is that you?” he stammered. ”It can't be--Maud!”
”How clever of you to guess. George, I want to ask you one or two things. In the first place, are you fond of b.u.t.ter?”
George blinked. This was not a dream. He had just b.u.mped his knee against the corner of the telephone table, and it still hurt most convincingly. He needed the evidence to a.s.sure himself that he was awake.
”b.u.t.ter?” he queried. ”What do you mean?”
”Oh, well, if you don't even know what b.u.t.ter means, I expect it's all right. What is your weight, George?”
”About a hundred and eighty pounds. But I don't understand.”
”Wait a minute.” There was a silence at the other end of the wire.
”About thirteen stone,” said Maud's voice. ”I've been doing it in my head. And what was it this time last year?”
”About the same, I think. I always weigh about the same.”
”How wonderful! George!”
”Yes?”
”This is very important. Have you ever been in Florida?”
”I was there one winter.”
”Do you know a fish called the pompano?”
”Yes.”
”Tell me about it.”
”How do you mean? It's just a fish. You eat it.”