Myrtle paused dramatically. I waited breathlessly, somehow know- ing.

"It wasn't any mop, of course" Myrtle said bitterly, "it was your wig!"

"Really?" I muttered, "how awful!"

“Oh, it didn't really hurt, dear" Myrtle said soberly, “it was just the surprise of it, you know. It was kind of confusing” she added, “All that hair all over-it kind of startled me." "I started to tell Arnold off but all the hair got in my mouth and all of a sudden it got so dark that I screamed and all the neighbors came running and . . . " Myrtle trailed off and started to cry.

I got off the sofa and went over and sat on the arm of the easy chair. I put my arm around Myrtle and turned to her and cuddled her to me. "There, there, dear" I murmured, "don't be upset. It's all right, now."

"I keep telling him to get his glasses changed but he won't listen" Myrtle sobbed.

“Of course, dear” I found I liked Myrtle on my breast, too. I patted her hair and caressed her curls with my fingers.

"By the time I got myself untangled from the wig it was reall y a mess" Myrtle went on, "I knew you could never wear it like that so I took it to the Bon Ton and left it to be cleaned and styled."

"You didn't have to, really" I murmured thinking what a nice job the Bon Ton would do. I patted Myrtle's curls some more they were so nice, really.

"I wanted to" Myrtle said plaintively, wiping her eyes with some Kleenex from her apron pocket, "if only to make Arnold pay for it.”

"There, there" I said. I hugged Myrtle slightly. I felt a slight nibbling through my bra. It kind of tickled. I began to wonder a little about Myrtle. Just a phase, maybe, I thought. I didn't hug her so much.

"The beast!" I said soothingly.

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