He got into position and looked up at the girls. "This one's just for
practice, so we can all see how it works." He gave Symes's extended foot
a little push.
_Whee!_ he thought. Round and round the gentleman went, spinning
quietly on his stomach, revolving in a merry fashion while the girls and
Forrester watched silently. At last he slowed and stopped, his nose
pointing at Bette and his toes at Dorothy.
"Oh, my!" Dorothy said. "He's pointing at me!"
"He is not!" Bette said decisively. "His head points my way!"
"But he--"
"Temper, temper," Forrester said. "No arguments. That one didn't count,
anyhow--it was just to see how he worked. And I do think he works very
nicely, don't you?"
"Oh, yes, Lord Dionysus," Kathy said. There was the same undertone in
her voice, as if she were silently laughing at everything. She was, he
told himself, an extremely unlikable young woman.
The other girls agreed in a chorus. They were still studying the stiff
body of Ed Symes. His stomach had made a little depression in the grass
as he whirled, and he was now nicely bedded down for a real spin.
Forrester rubbed his hands together.
"Fine," he said. "Now, all of you are going to be judges."
"Me, too?" Bette asked.
Forrester nodded. "The head will be the determining factor. If our
little Mr. Bottle's head points to any one of you, that is the one I'll
choose first."
"See?" Bette said. "I told you it was his head."
"Well, I couldn't tell before anybody said so," Dorothy said. "And
anyhow, I--"
"Now, now, girls," Forrester said, feeling momentarily like a Girl Scout
troop leader. "Let's listen to the rules, shall we? And then we can get
down to playing the game." He took a deep breath. "Isn't this fun?"
The girls giggled.
"Good," Forrester said. "If Mr. Bottle's head ends up between two of
you, then the other five girls will have to decide which girl the head's
nearer to. The two girls involved will remain absolutely quiet during
the judging, and if the other five can't come to a unanimous agreement,
we'll spin Mr. Bottle again. Understand?"
"You mean if the head points at me, I get picked," Bette said. "And if
the head goes in between me and somebody else, all the other girls have
to decide who gets picked."
It was a masterly summation.
"Right," Forrester said. "I'm going to give Mr. Bottle a spin. This one
counts. We'll have the second spin, and the rest of them, later."
"Gee!" Millicent whispered. "Isn't this _exciting_?"
Forrester ignored the comment. "And remember, I give you my word as a
God that I will not interfere in any way with the workings of chance. Is
that clearly understood?"
The girls murmured agreement.
"Now," Forrester said, "all you girls get into a nice circle. I'll stand
outside."
The girls took a minute or two arranging themselves in a circle, arguing
about who was going to sit next to whom, and whose very proximity was
bound to bring bad luck. The argument gave Forrester a chance to check
on Gerda again. She was whispering softly to Alvin, but they weren't
touching each other. Forrester turned up his hearing to get a better
idea of what was going on.
They had progressed, in the usual manner, from argument to life-history.
Gerda was telling Alvin all about her past.
"... but don't misunderstand me, Alvin. It's just that I was in love
with a very fine young man. An Athenan, he was. A wonderful man, really
wonderful. But he--he was killed in a subway accident some months ago."
"Gosh," Alvin said. "I'm sorry."
"I--I have to tell you this, Alvin, so you'll understand. I still love
him. He was wonderful. And until I get over it, I simply can't ..."
Feeling both ashamed of himself and pleased, as well as sorry for the
poor girl, Forrester quit listening. The Gods had arranged his simulated
death, which, of course, had been a necessity. His disappearance had to
be explained somehow. But he didn't like the idea of Gerda having to
suffer so much.
_My God!_ Forrester thought. _She still loves me!_
It was the first time he had ever heard her say so, flatly, right out in
the open. He wanted to bound and leap and cavort--but he couldn't. He
had to go back to his seven beautiful girls.
He had never felt less like it in his life.
But at least, he consoled himself, Gerda was keeping Alvin at arm's
length. She was being faithful to his memory.
Faithful--because she loved him.