"It's obvious!" I said to Willy. "You go to Red's element!"
Willy's meager features were perplexed, but Red caught the idea. She
jumped excitedly back on her beau's lap. "Don't you see what he means,
Willy? Draw yourself to my size!"
That is a verbatim report of what led up to Willy propping a full-length
mirror in an easel and making a twelve-and-a-half inch full-length
portrait of himself, with me drinking triple ryes while Red directed
which of Willy's features should manifest the most prominence. It was a
very good likeness of himself as he might have looked had he been the
physical Adonis his mind pictured him as, which was only right,
considering the element he was journeying to. Red insisted he wear a
bathing suit that more or less matched her own.
When he was finished, he stepped back, naturally, to admire it.
"That's terrific!" I said, clapping him on the back.
"Watch on whom you're spilling the rye," Red flared. I apologized, and
in my philanthropic state stooped to kiss her. She backed away.
"A kiss for the bride," I said, pouting. "That's all."
She laughed. "You'd swallow me." But she approached and stood up on
tip-toe and bussed my nose.
"Break it up," Willy said, a new authority in his voice. "I've got to
put my signature to the sketch." He tapped impatiently. "Red. Lie down
beside the sketch."
Red flushed and placed her hands on her hips. "Now look here, Willy.
Don't you go getting too big for your boots!"
I guffawed. "It's the other way 'round! He'll be too _small_ for his
boots."
This diverted the quarrel enough for Willy to give me final
instructions, which he did from a prone position on the floor. "Is Red
lying down beside the sketch, Jim?"
"Yup," I said, squinting at the once-again two-dimensioned Red-head.
"Now I'll transfer my mind to the sketch. I'll move an arm when I'm
there."
He closed his eyes, and a straining expression twisted his features.
"Am I there yet?"
"Nope," I said, bringing my eyes to focus three inches from the sketch.