22

without mishaps, at the private landing field of one of the most famous men in the world. So, wishing with all my heart that I was back in some safe place, like the Anzio Beach Head, Bob Stevens, Girl Reporter, began his career.

John helped me alight from the plane, and taking my arm dragged, or rather escorted me to the door. At our ring, the door was opened by an adorable little maid. She couldn't have been more than three feet tall and was wearing a red nylon maid's uniform that would have made Vicki and Edith of New York just green! Poor little thing, she must have had a cold, because her voice was very deep. "Yes?" she thundered.

"My name is Barbara Stevens of Transvestia Magazine, and I,. "We've been ex-

"Oh, yes, Miss Stevens," she interrupted. pecting you. Won't you come in? The Master is out with the Live- stock at the moment, but his wife and sister are awaiting you in the drawing room. Just follow me."

John gave me a shove and we followed the maid into the draw- ing room. Two women were seated beside a huge fireplace. As we entered, they stood up. They were dressed as twins in long, red velvet hostess gowns trimmed with ermine. Their hair was bleached almost white and was sprinkled with glitter. Their figures were young and full, and yet their faces could have been almost any age. Their welcoming smiles filled the room with joy.

"80

"How do you do, Miss Stevens," said one of the women, sorry that my husband is not here to meet you. This is Nikki, his sister. won't you sit down?"

After introducing John, I settled back into a chair made of reindeer antlers and cushioned in red velvet, I smoothed my skirt and felt a little more at ease.

"Did you bring the jelly?" said Nikki. (She must have had a cold, too.) "We've had so many requests for it."

"Yes, I did, Nikki." I said, "and of course we will keep you amply supplied. But there is another purpose for my visit, Turn- ing to the wife, I said, "do you think your husband would consent to an interview for Transvestia Magazine?"