Part 5 (2/2)

”That's my Baby,” said the Doll.

”No strings,” I said.

”Like we said.” Her words were soft petals. ”Like we said, Baby. Just like we said.”

”Sure. Only d.a.m.n it, I don't like it that way. I _want_ strings, see?

I want meshes of 'em, b.a.l.l.s of 'em, like what comes in yarn--get it?”

The Doll grinned. ”Sure, Baby--you're sure you want it that way?”

”Sure I'm sure. I just said it, didn't I? _Didn't_ I?”

”You just said it, Baby.” She left her father's side, came over to me, put her arm in mine, pulled close. We turned, started to go out the door.

”Where you guys going?” asked Pop. We turned again. He looked like something was skipped somewhere on a sound track he'd been listening to. I grinned.

”Gotta look for a Brown Bess,” I said. ”Museum just lost one.”

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