Again and again, Arthur plunged his small shovel into the earth, making the rectangular hole deeper. Mrs. Read walked up to him, reviewed what she was seeing, and said, "Arthur, digging a hole without permission is the sort of thing I expected from you in third grade."
The aardvark boy wiped his brow with his sweater sleeve. "I'm digging a grave for Jean Greyhound," he told his mother.
"Jean who?" said his mother, astounded. "You can't bury just anyone in our yard, you know."
"She's a dog," said Arthur. "She was a dog."
"She wasn't our dog," said Mrs. Read. "Someday, when Pal dies, you can bury him here, but you're not going to turn the yard into a pet cemetery for the whole neighborhood."
She strolled away, the finality of her words hanging in the air. Arthur, after filling up the hole the best he could, left the shovel sticking out and went to the telephone.
"Hello?" said Alan Powers.
"Hi, Alan, it's me," said Arthur. "I need a big favor. Jean Greyhound's dead, and I'm looking for a place to bury her, 'cause the vet can't keep her in his freezer forever."
"What?" said Alan, taken aback. "Jean Greyhound's dead?"
"Yeah," said Arthur. "You got any extra space in your yard?"
Silence filled the line as Alan pondered what he had been told. "Mansch mentioned somebody named Jean," he recalled. "He said he was attacked by Sentinels…and something about a sphere…but I don't know if I can trust anything he said, because he was drugged at the time, plus he's a crook to begin with."
"So, how about it?" said Arthur, returning to his subject. "It'd be a good way to honor the memory of the Professor…I mean, in case you never see him again."
While Alan and Arthur discussed Jean Greyhound's funeral arrangements, Sue relaxed in a rocking chair with her feet jutting out so that Mr. Krantz could rub massage oil onto them. I could live in luxury, with the world in my thrall, she mused. But where would be the satisfaction in that? No, I'd rather be loved than obeyed.
A possible course of action occurred to her, and she lifted the mysterious sphere to waist level. "Binky," she ordered, "come to my house immediately." I'll save wear and tear on my feet as well, she thought.
Half a mile away, Binky was poring over an algebra problem when he heard a strange summons. Powerless to resist, he arose stiffly and started to march away from his desk.
Mrs. Barnes, noticing that the boy had put on his coat, asked him, "Where are you going?"
"To Sue's house," he replied emotionlessly.
"Have you finished your homework?" his mother inquired.
"No," was his simple response. "See ya, Mom."
He trudged in a straight line, not bothering to look each way before crossing the street. As a result, a little blue sedan was forced to swerve sharply to avoid him.
"How rude!" said Muffy, who occupied one of the seats in the back of the sedan. "Why doesn't that kid watch where he's going?"
"His head's so big, maybe he couldn't see past it," said her seatmate, Fern.
Mrs. Walters directed the car into a smooth right turn. "I'm curious," said Muffy to her friend. "Why did you insist on having your mom drive us to Mavis' house?"
"It's just a feeling I have," said Fern. A feeling of not wanting to go anywhere near Mr. Crosswire's car, she thought.
Binky strode into the Krantz home without knocking. Seeing Sue stretched out on a reclining chair, he said with a smile, "Hey, beautiful."
"Hi, handsome," said the cat girl sweetly.
He was halfway through the kitchen when he began to look about, confused. "I…I forgot why I came here," he muttered.
"Come closer," said Sue, and the bulldog boy could think of nothing except to obey.
Mr. Krantz straightened up and moved aside, allowing the two kids to face each other. "Binky," Sue began, "you came here so you could tell me all about your friend Clive."
"Clive," said Binky with a vacant stare.
"Somehow Clive was responsible for placing me in this reality, where the Yordilians failed in their conquest of Earth," she continued. "What I want to know, and what you're going to tell me, is…how did he do it?"
Mrs. Walters switched off the headlights, and the house ahead of them grew dim. "Here we are, girls," she said, looking over her shoulder.
"Thanks, Mom," said Fern. She and Muffy unfastened their seat belts, and Muffy stepped out of the vehicle with a string-bound parcel under her arm. For this visit she was wearing, instead of her usual optical fiber dress, a pale blue one made of satin.
Mr. Cutler opened the door soon after she rang the bell. "Come in, Muffy, Fern," said the man with the hamster-like ears. "Mavis will be happy to see you."
The girl, clad in a red jumpsuit that matched her hair, rounded a corner to greet them. "Hi, Muffy," she said immediately, but recognizing Fern required effort on her part. After a few moments of narrow-eyed staring, she finally said, "All I can see is a nose."
"Pleased to meet you," said Fern, sticking out her hand. "I'm Barbra Streisand."
"Oh, Fern, it's you," said Mavis, giggling.
"If you don't mind my asking," said the poodle girl, "how much can you still see?"
"Hardly a thing," Mavis replied. "It's like everything's a blur and the whole world's just a faint spot in the middle of the blur."
"Enough negative talk, Mavis," said Muffy, who was deftly untying the string around the box. "I've got a present for you—a valuable present—one you can exchange for a pair of new eyes."
"My gosh, Muffy," said Fern in astonishment. "You're giving her the space dress?"
"Affirmative," said the monkey girl, stretching out the dress with her fingers so everyone present could see the blank white surface.
"I…I didn't…" Fern sputtered.
"Go ahead, say it," gloated Muffy. "You didn't think I was so generous."
Mavis groped with her hands, touching and caressing the alien fabric. "Thank you so much, Muffy," she said. "How much do you suppose it's worth?"
To some people, more than a human life. "At least half a million, I'd guess," said Muffy.
"Let's go, Mavis," said Fern, grabbing the dress with one hand and the hamster girl's wrist with the other. "I'll help you change. I've just got to see how you look in it."
It wasn't long before the door to the bathroom closed, and muffled movements were heard from within. "It's quite an impressive dress," remarked Mr. Cutler as he showed Muffy to a seat on the couch. "Can I get you some oatmeal cookies?"
"No, thank you," said the girl. "I'm watching my figure."
"I've also got peanut butter chocolate chip," the man told her.
"Oh, what the heck," said Muffy. "You're only young once."
As Mavis pulled the alien dress over her torso, the image of her smiling, curly head popped into view. "How do I look?" she asked, and the copy of her face spoke along with her.
"It's you," gushed Fern. "It's really you."
Outside the bathroom, Mr. Cutler was serving milk and cookies to Muffy on a plate. "For such a unique item, I don't imagine finding a buyer will be a problem," the man contemplated.
"Don't worry yourself about that," said Muffy confidently. "I've already got someone lined up. He'll give anything for that dress."
"Who is he?" asked Mr. Cutler.
"His name's Gelt," replied Muffy.
Her host's face suddenly darkened. "Gelt?" he repeated thoughtfully. "Meriwether Gelt?"
Muffy nodded.
"Meriwether Gelt of Chick-a-Doodle fame?"
"The very one."
Mavis burst through the door like a prom queen, her skirt waving. "What do you think, Dad?" she said proudly.
"It's lovely, dear," was Mr. Cutler's stoic response. "Now take it off, please."
"Wha—" said Muffy, Fern, and Mavis in unison.
"I can't accept the dress," the man went on. "I'm sorry."
"But…but why not?" said Muffy earnestly.
Mr. Cutler gave her a patronizing look. "How a nice young thing like you got mixed up with the likes of Meriwether Gelt, I don't know. Anyone who reads the news regularly, like I do, knows him for what he really is—a mob financier."
"Interesting," said Sue, her fingers tented. "Very interesting. Where is Clive now?"
Binky shrugged. "I dunno. He disappeared. Alan told me that Professor Frink was after him."
"Hmm," said Sue sinisterly. "I've been hoping for a chance to get to know the professor better, and here it is."
To be continued