“Oh,” said Prin, “I’m sorry. I thought Coley Collins lived here.”
“So he does,” the old-young man-boy said, “and so do I.”
“You mean you live here together?”
“Certainly.”
“How odd!”
“How odd of you to think so. May I ask why?”
“Because Coley forgot to mention you, that’s all. I assumed he lived alone.”
He removed his goggles and wiped them on the tail of the sport shirt screaming outside his pants. Then he put the goggles back on and, leaning a little, peered.
“You’re Princess O’Shea,” he exclaimed.
“How did you know?”
“Coley may never have mentioned me to you, but he’s mentioned you to me so many times that I’m sick of you. I must admit, though, that Coley has a sharpshooter’s eye. You’re the type girl I’d like to draw a bead on myself, I think, if I liked girls.”
“You don’t like girls?”
“No, because they don’t like me. It’s a kind of sex war.”
“That’s too bad. There are so many fun-things boys and girls can do together.”
“I don’t want to discuss it,” said the gnome. “Coley’s in love with you. Do you know that?”
“I should hope so,” said Prin, wondering when he was going to ask her in.
“Oh, there’s no question about it. Are you going to take him away from me?”
Prin was rather startled. “I suppose so. You don’t have any claim on him, do you?”
“Just the claim of undying friendship.”
“Well, I’m sorry. But if we’re going to be married—”
“I don’t suppose you’d consider letting me live with you,” the little man-boy asked wistfully, “afterward?”
“I doubt,” said Prin with no doubt whatever, “that an arrangement like that would work out.”
He looked glum. “I’m inclined to agree. I’m the jealous type. Don’t misunderstand me,” he said suddenly. “Coley and I are not—”
“I’m relieved to hear it,” said Prin; and she was, too.
“You won’t mind my visiting him now and then?”
“Well, no.”
“Thank you. My name is Winston Whitfield. Coley isn’t here just now.”
“Where is he, Mr. Whitfield?”
“He’s at an evening class taking a lesson in embezzlement. You know, Coley is learning how to steal a bundle so we can go away somewhere and live forever after without having to work.”
“Plans have now changed. I’m the one who’s going with him.”
Whitfield’s little face reflected first frustration, then menace. “You promised to let me visit,” he said, “and don’t — you — forget it!”
“I’ll send you a proper invitation at the proper time. Do you expect Coley back soon, Mr. Whitfield?”
“Call me Winnie,” Winston Whitfield said sulkily. “Any time now. I’m listening for his signal. He always whistles coming up the stairs.”
“May I come in and wait?”
“If you like snakes.”
“I beg pardon?” said Prin.
“The place is full of snakes. I just thought I ought to tell you.”
“That’s considerate of you. On second thought, I believe I’ll wait out here.”
“They’re contained, of course. I have them in aquariums.”
“In that case, I’ll come in.”
Winnie Whitfield stepped aside to admit her. Prin looked cautiously around a room that would not have merited a second glance, for it was drab and nappy as the soul of a landlord, except for the aquariums. There were some two dozen of them, all furnished tastefully with colored rocks and weathered wood, and each housing at least one wriggling, sinewy thing.
“Would you like to hold one?” asked Winnie, pleased at her interest.
“Well, no, thank you.”
“Oh, you’re really missing something. They’re so affectionate.”
“How do you tell the difference between affection and hunger?”
“You have the usual prejudices,” said the little man sadly. “Snakes are the most slandered of living creatures. Don’t you realize that of the more than one hundred varieties of snakes in this country, only four are poisonous?”
“Is that a fact?” said Prin politely. “I’m pretty ignorant about snakes.”
“Most people are. Only our coral snake, water moccasin, copperhead and rattlesnake are poisonous.”
“I’m relieved to hear it,” said Prin.
“Snakes are so beautiful. Take that common bull snake over there. See how esthetically designed he is? The perfect harmony of his colors? Would you care to watch him walk across the room?”
“No, thank you,” said Prin hurriedly. “I didn’t know snakes walk, by the way. I thought they slither along on their tummies.”
“Another slander. Many of them walk. Actually, on their ribs. Grip the ground with them. That’s why they can’t get along on a slick surface.”
“How do you happen to be so interested in snakes?” asked Prin, just to keep the little weirdo from demonstrating one of them.
“Because nobody likes them,” said Winnie Whitfield savagely, “that’s why. All because of that fairy tale about the Garden of Eden. If you ask me, a woman invented that story about Eve being tempted with the apple by the snake! Transferring her own guilt to a poor old reptile. Why, there are endless satisfactions in studying snakes. For instance, they swallow their food whole—” Prin could not suppress a shudder “—even though they have teeth. Why? Because their teeth are slanted the wrong way. Did you know that? Watch a snake shed its skin sometimes — it’s marvelous. Did you know some snakes bear their young alive? Garter snakes do that, little plain old garden variety garter snakes. Isn’t that wonderful? And useful — why, take the bull snake, the king snake. They eat rats and mice.”
“How, ah, do you keep your bull snake,” coughed Prin, “on his regular diet?”
“I set traps for mice — I have an arrangement with a wholesale grocer.”
“I can see you really love snakes.”
“Oh, yes, better than anything in the world.” Winston Whitfield, who had been looking intensely happy, now looked intensely sad. “Excepting Coley, that is. I love Coley Collins even more than snakes. He’s so clever, so kind. He’ll really steal a great deal of money some day.”
“I hope not,” said Prin with asperity. “Coley told me about those embezzlement lessons. Can’t you tell a joke when you hear one?”
“Joke?” said Winnie, looking puzzled. “Well, no matter. Rich or poor, Coley’s the finest fellow alive. I wish you and he had never met.”
“Nature had to be served eventually,” said Prin philosophically. “Have you known each other long?”
“Since we were boys. He was the only one ever liked me, I don’t know why. He never gets angry with me.”
“Doesn’t he ever get angry about your having snakes around?”
“Never,” said Winnie stoutly. “He will even hold one once in a while to please me. I can hardly bear to think of living without him. Isn’t there anything I can say or do to make you give him up?”
“I can’t think of anything. Isn’t that Coley now? Someone is whistling on the stairs.”