"Well, that's good news for you. By this time you're on easy terms with your guests?"
Glawen said cautiously: "We're still a bit formal, although I've lost my fear of them."
"Wayness is not seven feet tall and does not smell of fish after all?"
"That was just a joke. She is quite normal, and has no perceptible odor."
"And she's amazingly pretty? So that I seem just a tired old bundle of junk?"
"What foolishness! You're the prettiest bundle of junk I've ever seen!"
"Glawen! Should I take that as a compliment? I can't quite figure it out."
"I intended a compliment. What are you doing?"
"Better to ask what should I be doing, which is practicing my parts. But tell me more about your guests. Are they lofty or difficult?"
"Not at all! They're quite agreeable, and very well-mannered."
"Hmmm. The Naturalists I've seen out at the lodges were all slightly peculiar, as if they thought differently from the way I did."
Glawen glanced over his shoulder toward the library table where Miloand Wayness stood turning the pages of off-world periodicals.
"They don't seem extra-peculiar, although I know what you mean."
"What do they look like?"
Again Glawen chose his words carefully.
"They are not what I would call bad-looking."
"Fascinating! Tell me more."
"They have black hair which makes a remarkable contrast with their pale olive skin. Milo has quite a good physique."
"And Wayness: has she a good physique too?"
"In a certain sense. She is slim, rather boyish, in fact.
Milo is an inch taller than I am and is quite handsome, I should say, in an aristocratic way."
"Wayness is not aristocratic, then?"
"They're much the same in that respect. Both are very much in charge of themselves."
"What are they wearing?"
"I haven't noticed. One minute while I look."
"Hurry, because Mother is calling me for my fitting."
"Wayness is wearing a short gray skirt, black stockings which show her knees, a black jacket and a gray ribbon around her hair with two tassels, dark red and dark blue, hanging to the middle of her neck. I Milo " "Never mind about Milo. I'm sure he's decently clad."
"Oh, quite. They're still looking at fashion books ... Now they're laughing, why I don't know."
"Here comes Squeaker, I mean Miranda, with urgent news from Mother. I must go."
Glawen turned away from the telephone. For a moment he studied his guests, then slowly approached the table.
"I see that I'm not indispensable after all. You're getting along nicely without me."
"Yes, with the help of these silly fashions," said Milo.
"Look at this funny creature."
"Sad to say, it's a lady and she's in deadly earnest."
"Hm. Which reminds me: I was much impressed by the coiffure of your Aunt Spanchetta."
"We're all quite proud of it. Unfortunately, after Spanchetta's hair and the fashion books, there's not much else of interest around here." Glawen went to the sideboard, and poured wine into goblets.
"This is our own Green Zoquel, which we Clattucs claim to be the wine which gave Parilia its start."
The three went to sit on the sofa. Aside from themselves the library was empty. Glawen said: "It's quiet downstairs tonight. Everyone is busy with their costumes. What of yourselves? We'll have to find costumes for you."
Wayness asked: "Does everyone go about in costume?"
"Almost everyone, from tomorrow until SmoHen night. We can always find something in the Mummery wardrobe. We'll go to look first thing in the morning."
