Short Stories by Robert A. Heinlein Vol 2 Part 81

'I would not advise it,' Waldo answered. 'Let me show you a letter he sent me.' He left and fetched it back. 'Here.'

Stevens glanced through it. '-your generous offer of your share in the new power project I appreciate, but, truthfully, I have no interest in such things and would find the responsibility a burden.

As for the news of your new strength I am happy, but not surprised.

The power of the Other World is his who would claim it-'

There was more to it. It was written in a precise Spencerian hand, a trifle shaky; the rhetoric showed none of the colloquialisms with which Schneider spoke.

'Hm-m-m - I think I see what you mean.'

'I believe,' Waldo said seriously, 'that he regards our manipulations with gadgets as rather childish.'

'I suppose. Tell me, what do you intend to do with your-self?'

'Me? I don't know, exactly. But I can tell you this: I'm going to have fun. I'm going to have lots of fun. I'm just beginning to find out bow much fun it is to be a man!'

His dresser tackled the other slipper. 'To tell you just why I took up dancing would be a long story,' he continued.

'I want details.'

'Hospital calling,' someone in the dressing room said.

'Tell 'em I'll be right there, fast. Suppose you come in tomorrow afternoon?' he added to the woman reporter. 'Can you?'

'Right.'

A man was shouldering his way through the little knot around him.

Waldo caught his eye. 'h.e.l.lo, Stanley. Glad to see you.'

'h.e.l.lo, Waldo.' Gleason pulled some papers out from under his cape and dropped them in the dancer's lap. 'Brought these over myself as I wanted to see your act again.'

'Like it?'

'Swell!'

Waldo grinned and picked up the papers. 'Where is the dotted line?'

'Better read them first,' Gleason cautioned him.

'Oh shucks, no. If it suits you, it suits me. Can I borrow your stylus?'

A worried little man worked his way up to them. 'About that recording,

Waldo-'

'We've discussed that,' Waldo said flatly. 'I only perform before audiences.'

'We've combined it with the Warm Springs benefit.'

'That's different. OK.'

'While you're about it, take a look at this layout.' It was a reduction, for a twenty-four sheet:

THE GREAT WALDO.

AND HIS TROUPE.

with the opening date and theatre left blank, but with a picture of Waldo, as Harlequin, poised high in the air.

'Fine, Sam, fine!' Waldo nodded happily.

'Hospital calling again!'

'I'm ready now,' Waldo answered, and stood up. His dresser draped his street cape over his lean shoulders. Waldo whistled sharply.

'Here, Baldur! Come along.' At the door he stopped an instant, and waved. 'Goodnight, fellows!'

'Goodnight, Waldo.'

They were all such grand guys.

WE ALSO WALK DOGS.

"General services - Miss Cormet speaking!' She addressed the view screen with just the right balance between warm hospitable friendliness and impersonal efficiency. The screen flickered momentarily, then built up a stereo-picture of a dowager, fat and fretful, overdressed and underexercised.

'Oh, my dear,' said the image, 'I'm so upset. I wonder if you can help me.'

'I'm sure we can,' Miss Cormet purred as she quickly estimated the cost of the woman's gown and jewels (if real - she made a mental reservation) and decided that here was a client that could be profitable. 'Now tell me your trouble. Your name first, if you please.' She touched a b.u.t.ton on the horseshoe desk which enclosed her, a b.u.t.ton marked CREDIT DEPARTMENT.

'But it's all so involved,' the image insisted. 'Peter would go and break his hip.' Miss Cormet immediately pressed the b.u.t.ton marked MEDICAL. 'I've told him that poio is dangerous. You've no idea, my dear, how a mother suffers. And just at this time, too. It's so inconvenient -'

'You wish us to attend him? Where is he now?'

'Attend him? Why, how silly! The Memorial Hospital will do that. We've endowed them enough, I'm sure. It's my dinner party I'm worried about. The Principessa will be so annoyed.'

The answer light from the Credit Department was blinking angrily. Miss Cormet headed her off. 'Oh, I see. We'll arrange it for you. Now, your name, please, and your address and present location.'

'But don't you know my name?'

'One might guess,' Miss Cormet diplomatically evaded, 'but General Services always respects the privacy of its clients.'

'Oh, yes, of course. How considerate. I am Mrs Peter van Hogbein Johnson.' Miss Cormet controlled her reaction. No need to consult the Credit Department for this one. But its transparency flashed at once, rating AAA - unlimited. 'But I don't see what you can do,' Mrs Johnson continued. 'I can't be two places at once.'

'General Services likes difficult a.s.signments,' Miss Cormet a.s.sured her. 'Now - if you will let me have the details . .