Page:Weird Tales Volume 44 Number 7 (1952-11).djvu/32

"A man to see you, Mary," he said. "It's the darndest coincidence . . ."

"Coincidence, Fred?" she heard herself asking.

"Yes. His name seems to be George Bannett!"

Fred trailed Mary as his wife, marching as if to the guillotine, went to the door, opened, looked out into the smiling face of—the man in her dreams, every last one of her dreams, her prowling dreams.

"George!" she managed.

"Bannett!" he snapped briskly, scarcely friendly at all. "Look, sister, this bill has been running long enough. Eleven hundred forty-seven dollars and thirty-nine cents. I never expected to have to spend so much money to get such a little way with any woman. I've come for either the money or the stuff!"

"Then you're not here for, that is, you didn't come to take . . ."

"The stuff? Yes, I did, if you don't pay up!"

"Mr. Bannett," said Mary, vast relief bubbling up in her, “is your wife's name Georgia?"

"Got no wife. That's my sister's name; She lives out in California. Not married, either. Why?"

"Never mind, and say, you can take back all that stuff, even today's vegetables and canned goods. Fred, if you'll just fetch it . . ."

"Never mind, Fred," said George Bannett, "my men'll get the things!"

No sooner had George Bannett spoken than every last one of the dream-propelled items piled themselves on the porch at his feet. Mary gasped. Fred Hale gasp, too.

George Bannett checked the items against his list, nodded.

"All of it seems to be here," he said. "Now, take it out to the car!"

Instantly the stuff was gone. George Bannett grinned.

"Gremlins today leprechauns yesterday, kobalds tomorrow!" he said, thumping the brim of his hat. "Want to go to my car and check?"

"Don't need to," said Fred. "There are garments on hangers in the tonneau now. There weren't any a second or two ago. No doors opened, no windows. How was it done?"

"I just told you. Well, so long."

"Before you go," said Fred, "what's the sense of all this? What were you trying to prove?"

"Why did you tell your wife you had thought yourself in love with Georgia Bannett, when she was out in California, and has been, for years?"

"Maybe," said Mary, looking qucerly at Fred, "he's been dreaming true, too!"

"Dream?" said George. "Nobody dreams. Everybody thinks he does. What actually happens is this . . ."

George Bannett was gone, in a flash. The next instant he stuck his head out the window of his car, clear across the highway and yelled:

"I almost forgot, Mary! I really came for you. You coming?"

Instantly, as if there were no need to think about it, and just as she was, Mary started running toward George. She hadn't taken two steps before she found herself sitting beside him, quite comfortably, too. As the car started smoothly away she was aware of all the small voices, all around them, in the car, under it, on the roof, blending in what sounded like a single small, very small, voice, which said:

"If more people knew how much fun it is, a lot more would be going in for it!"

Mary Hale laughed, happily, and George Bannett grinned at her.

"There'll be no more daydreaming, Mary, understand?"