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"One thing left." George drew out the Sword. The hilt snuggled into his hand as if the blade
were begging to dance. "I'd kinda like to ... uh ... hang on to this," said George sheepishly.
"But I'm darned tooting going to get rid of this bag!" He buckled the sword belt around his
waist. Then he lifted the carpet bag and heaved it over into space.
"There!"
He felt better. He lay down on his belly and inspected the
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terrain. He thought he could spot the Congregational spire. George bet Kathy a dollar his
mother would make him shave on an empty stomach. So they lay, giggling, peering down,
lacking their heels, and the sun was warm on their backs. They forgot they'd been miserable.
They were almost home.
Mr. Blair touched earth long before dawn, hired a car, and drove himself to Deeport. At the
Ocean House, he registered, unchallenged, as Bennett Blair 2nd. He reserved a suite for
Miss Douglas. He had her luggage put there.
Oh, he was a fox! He chuckled, looking down at George's suit that he had filched from the
vast array in the upstairs wardrobe at George's fabulous house. All his own suits were
hopeless. He was a fox! He'd thought of this!
Oh, it had been jolly, whipping down the parkways in George's Cadillac, sneaking into his
own house, commanding Fraulein in an imitation of his own old voice, over the house phone,
to pack for Kathy- Maneuvering the servants out of the way before he made his dash to the
streets again. He was postponing, he was evading. First and foremost came Kathleen.
The darling giri had run away, and be could not blame her for that. He had overwhelmed her
too suddenly, pouring out such talk! Well, he could not blame himself for that, either. That
glorious surge of the heart had overwhelmed him. He did not regret it.
All would be well, yet. Mr. Blair felt absolutely invincible.
He breakfasted in his room, alone. This was his first free time with a looking glass. He tried
to part his blond hair on the side, but it refused. How old was he? he wondered. A scar,
there, at the hairline. He remembered the occasion of it. He must be at least twenty-five. A
good age' Just the right age for Kathleen!
Kathleen! Mr. Blair was, actually, in a state of civil war, his physical youth resisting his foxy
old brain, so that he swayed between dreams of love and the cooler strategy of conquest.
At last, he realized that even that ancient decrepit Carpet would be ambling into port soon.
So he tore his gaze from the fascinating face in the glass, borrowed binoculars, drove off to
an unpopulated stretch of beach. He would take up a post.
THREE DAY MAGIC 299
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He would meet the morning Carpet- Mr. Blair chuckled. What a glorious morning! He
frisked on the pebbly strand.
Mr. Blair's wise old mind, bouncing, willy-nilly, while the rest of him danced, remarked that
Wall Street had never been like this!
The Carpet began to lose altitude. It was coming in for a landing on a deserted potato field.
George peered anxiously over. He saw a car draw up. The figure of a man got out and ran,
arms waving. **0h, my gosh!" said George in dismay.
"It's Mr. Blair, isn't it?" said Kathy calmly. "Never mind." George squeezed her hand.
The Carpet came softly, softly down. George stepped off, turned to hold his hand to his lady,
and vanished.
Mr. Blair came bounding up- "Hello, hello.'*
"Helto," said Kathy coolly. The fact that George had vanished didn't perturb her at once.
After all, they had both been vanishing, off and on, all night long. She was perfectly
accustomed to the idea.
"Have a nice trip?" said Mr. Blair pleasantly.
"Not very," she answered severely. "George . . ." She missed the feel of his hand, the sense
of his near shoulder. even more. . . . "Shall we go home?"
No answer came.
"Where'd he go?" said Mr. Blair, looking about them. Bul Kathy began to walk straight
ahead of her. She was so very tired, so very hungry , . . And George - . . why didn't his arm
come around her weary shoulders? Tears stung her eyes. She lifted her own arm to mop at
them with fabric.
The Cloak hung on her arm!
But then . . . ! "Oh!" cried Kathy. "Oh! Oh!" The Lamp! Now she remembered its lost Mid
terrible power!
"I don't understand what's happened to George." said Mr. Blair, rather angrily, "but if this is
the way he takes care of you . . . !"
"I'm afraid . . . there was something," she said forlornly, "he had to do."
Mr. Blair's brain beat his body down in a short sharp struggle, for it knew an opportunity
when it saw one. He became the soul of tender kindness. He would take care of
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her. He brought her to her room at the Ocean House. Ah, the sweet wann comfort of it, after
the vast chill inhumanity of the sky! He commanded them to bring coffee ... oh, blessed
liquid!
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Thus he comforted her with the civilized arts. Now, she must bathe and rest, he said, and
then-take lunch, perhaps? Mr. Blah-'s breath grew a trifle gaspy. "Kathleen, won't you call me
Bennett. now?"
He was being so kind. Kathy couldn't be ungracious. She smiled and said she'd try.
Mr. Blair's wise old mind fought like a maddened hornet in his skull against his urge to grab
her. "Rest well," he counseled, and withdrew.
Sore and bewildered, Kathy nevertheless bathed and dressed herself in fresh clothing.
What to do? George was gone! And she could not think how, except by the power of the
Lamp. And who. then, had invoked its power but mat fatuous old Mrs. McGurk? But what to
do? She turned over what magic she had in stock. The Rose and the Purse? She put them
in the handbag Fraulein had supplied. George was right. These things were no good.
Neither could the Cloak help her. It lay on the bed. The Carpet?
Oh, heavens' It lay abandoned in the field, and what mad adventure waited now for some
Yankee farmer, she dreaded to imagine. Oh, George had been so right! This troublesome,
troublesome magic! She wished . . -
Wished! Wished, indeed! Kathy threw herself down to weep. Here hung the Ring on her
finger, and she with no wishes left!
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