Transvestia

"I--I can explain that, I think," said Miss Quinn anxiously hoping that she could. Perhaps she could save herself even at this late date.

"Please." said Mrs. Boyle holding up her hand for silence. "In a minute. First, let me say a few things."

·

She rose from her chair and walked over to the window and looked out. "He won't be back for a while--I sent him for a pint of sherbert so that we would have our opportunity for our little talk.

"I had no idea what was happening here. My son is not a good letter-writer. I'm quite active in our city in charitable works and so forth and--well, perhaps I'm not the picture of a doting mother either. Let us say that we had reached an agreement and we were both honoring it. My son insisted on being independent and after much anguish, it was established. Then--just before the holidays, I received a request from my son--for money. He wanted to buy--" she paused for emphasis, "--a forina 1."

Yes, thought Miss Quinn, I wondered where he got that.

Miss

"Well, the cat was out of the bag after that." Mrs. Boyle looked at Miss Quinn speculatively. Quinn maintained a perfect mask,

"Now then. There are several questions I should like to ask. One of these obviously is why in the world you ever requested my son to wear dresses in the first place--wait, wait--I'm not done yet. There's more.' Suddenly the voluble Mrs. Boyle seemed at a loss for words.

"

"I--I suppose that a trained medical person would tell me that I've done something not proper in bring- ing my son up that way."

26