The Major and the Minor Page #9

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but look at me. I'm filled with helium.

I've got an aluminium heart.

- Well, you just reversed!

- Hmm? Why, so I did!

Oh, if Miss Parrott could only see me now.

- Miss who?

- Miss Jean Parrot, my dancing teacher.

I was 12, and she was 40.

I had a terrific crush on her.

That's an awkward situation.

Ah, the poetry of Miss Parrott's feet

demonstrating the tango.

As I remember, she had one fallen arch.

From the traffic, I imagine.

When the course was over,

after the very last lesson,

we were supposed to shake her hand

and bow from the waist and say thank you.

I waited to be the very last,

and then I kissed her, smack on the lips.

- You know what happened?

- Her other arch dropped.

I fainted.

Just one moment, honey.

I beg your pardon, Miss Hill.

- Oh, yes, Mr Osborne.

- Would you mind just a moment, please?

This is just idle curiosity,

but that little girl in pink

dancing with Major Kirby,

is she really your houseguest?

Little Su-Su Applegate? Yes, she is.

Why, I just had a crazy idea there

for a moment

that she was a little bit of fluff

from a scalp-massage place in New York,

named Susan Applegate.

What did you say, Mr Osborne?

Well, I was just saying...

What did I say?

- Milk, root beer, ginger ale?

- Ginger ale.

- Ginger ale.

- Yes, sir.

Looks more like champagne.

To you, Su-Su. To all my crushes.

Seems I'm always off schedule

20 or 30 years.

Nice if there was some kind of age machine,

you know,

with different buttons for different ages.

Press one and you're 40,

just right for Miss Parrott.

Is there a button labelled "Going on 15"?

Or how old is Cadet Wigton?

Uncle Phillip, this is my last evening here,

and there are so many things...

I mean, there's one very important thing

ever since I got on the train...

Pardon me. It's my dance, Miss Applegate.

Oh, just a minute, please.

Do you suppose that

when this ball is over at 10:30,

I could have a few minutes with you alone?

Maybe right here.

The Guard of Honour has to take me home,

but I could sort of sneak back.

- Secret, Su-Su?

- Please, Uncle Phillip.

Su-Su, all I have is one little piece

of a dance.

Very well. 10:
45 in this identical spot.

You don't have to have any scruples

about Mildred now, Su-Su.

I wrote a letter to Minneapolis last night

breaking off everything.

Well, now that I've told you everything,

I do hope you won't say anything about it

to my wife,

not that I have anything to conceal,

but I just don't want to have her

worry about my hair.

Mr Osborne, I assure you,

the whole situation will be treated

with the utmost discretion.

Well...

- Sure you don't want a nightcap, Su-Su?

- Hot cocoa, maybe?

Oh, no, thanks, really.

It's late, and I'm on the wagon.

- Good night, gentlemen.

Good night!

How was the dance?

He's got it! It came from Washington.

It did?

Sue, what are you doing?

Getting a dress, a dreamy dress,

with some high-heeled slippers

and bright-red lip rouge.

- Are you crazy?

- Maybe.

I hope he doesn't hate me

when he sees me as I really am.

What's worse, he may laugh or even faint.

Or he might say, "You liar,

why didn't you tell me in the first place?"

Well, it's better to tell him

in the second place than not at all.

Would you mind being a little clearer?

Where are you going?

Back to where the dance was.

Pamela?

- What are you doing?

- Putting out the light.

You ought to be asleep, and Su-Su, too.

- Good night.

- Good night.

Well, how is that, Madame Curie?

It's not a word I like to use,

but that dress is super.

- $200.

- Two hundred!

Only if you model them, you can buy them

for $30 at the end of the season.

- Well, here goes.

- Be careful of the fourth step. It squeaks.

If they don't hear my heart,

they won't hear anything.

Major Kirby?

- Major Kirby?

Hello, Miss Applegate.

I thought it wise to postpone

your appointment with Major Kirby.

Little Su-Su's stomach is upset again.

You see, this time,

it was I who did the telephoning.

Come here.

Maybe we'd better have a little talk.

At your disposal, Miss Hill.

Quite a lightning change. Let me see.

Not bad,

now that your finger is out of your mouth.

Let's drop the cat-and-mouse stuff, Miss Hill.

I make a very bad mouse.

All right, Miss Applegate.

First, you thought it necessary

to take over my fianc's career,

and now you're trying to take over my fianc.

- You don't love him.

- Leave that to me.

The alternatives are very simple.

Either you get out of here

exactly as you came,

as little Su-Su Applegate, understand,

with never a word to him or anyone else,

or there's going to be

an extremely nasty scandal

with somebody cashiered out of the service.

Somebody rather useful.

Thank you for putting it

on such a patriotic basis.

There's a train tonight, at 11:40 to be exact.

Let us say your mother arrived very agitated

and took you away in a great hurry.

No time for any good-byes.

Any further orders?

Just pack your things and go,

taking good care that nobody sees you

crossing the campus.

That's a rather foolish costume

for a child of 12.

You should be very glad I'm not 12.

I was a very straightforward child.

I used to spit.

Sue?

What is it, Sue?

What did he say?

I didn't see him. I'm leaving.

But, Sue, what is it?

You've got to tell me what happened.

Pamela happened.

She can't do a thing to you.

No, not to me, but there are regulations.

Don't be so mysterious, Sue.

I want to help you.

Don't you see?

You're much more my sister than Pamela.

- You can help me, darling.

- How?

By not telling him about me ever.

Promise, Lucy. Promise.

I promise.

Lucy? Lucy!

I saw your light go on. She isn't worse?

She's all right.

Can I talk to her?

Here.

Hello, Uncle Phillip.

That's a nice thing,

standing me up for a little stomach ache.

I'm sorry, Uncle Phillip.

You better be well by tomorrow.

We're gonna have our date.

Are we?

You and the chaplain

don't leave until after lunch.

I've cleared my desk of everything.

The morning's entirely ours.

Thank you, Uncle Phillip.

The student body may revolt,

but what the deuce!

It's not often a boy my age gets a smile

from someone whizzing by on a kiddie car.

I'd love it.

I'll call for you bright and early.

Well, early, anyway. Good night.

Good-bye, Uncle Philip.

Now, you see? You can't go.

You've got to help me pack, Luce.

Oh, Sue.

You know,

General Wallace owes me 51 cents.

Why, Will Duffy,

have you taken leave of your senses?

Maybe I have, and maybe your daughter has.

First, she writes from New York

that she's coming home to marry me.

Then come a lot of screwy telegrams.

Then she arrives three days late.

And then when I try to talk to her,

she lies on that hammock

and keeps staring at that light.

By the hour! By the week!

Well, she can go to Tophet!

That's where she can go,

to brimstone Tophet!

My hat. Where's my hat?

I'm sorry, Will.

How do you like that,

butting in on your privacy?

Never heard of such a thing.

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