blance between Beth and Rever- end Vincent. The idea was hard to balance and made me say, "I'm still not convinced about this thing."

"John wasn't either," Mary volunteered, "the first time."

Beth looked at Mary as she spoke and again I knew that the two of them had already fully discussed the whole matter and were in agreement about my go- ing to the services.

"All right," I said, "I'm out numbered, I know when I've been beaten. I'll go tonight." Beth's face ignited with en- thusiasm and her hand turned to grasp mine more firmly as she said, "Will you dress

"I'll go just as I am now,' I said bitterly, "or not at all."

Beth knew the determina- tion in my voice and got up then, announcing that she and Mary had to start dinner and get ready for the services. The girls had won a small victory, I was at least going, and they retreated toward the house.

Left alone then, John and I remained silent for some time. Finally I could no longer refrain from asking him the one ques- tion that kept frustrating me. "Are you going to - to dress in female clothes, John?"

He didn't answer imme- diately, but kept busy stuffing tobacco into his Briar, reminding me again that he only smoked his pipe when he was troubled or contimplating some theological problem. "I want to," he said finally, "but if you're deter- mind

"You go ahead, John," I said, "dress here if you want. I can drive us all over there."

"Oh, I'll dress over there,

"The neighbors," I put in, "of course, I didn't think.'

"The girls are pretty set on your dressing, aren't they?" John asked, letting that same mischie- vious twinkle come into his dark eyes.

"Let's go eat," I said, get- ting up, "I'm starved."

The girls had prepared a de- licious meal with Beth successful in suggesting my favorite dish to Mary and we sat down after washing up without another

word being said about the ser- vices. All through the meal my mind kept returning again and again to wondering what John really looked like when he was dressed in woman's clothes. The girls, though they did touch briefly on several points concern- ing Vincent's church, diplomatic- ally avoided any direct mention of the dressing part of it. I kept waiting for some excuse to bring it up but had to remain satisfied with just my silent thoughts. I was growing frustrated at not be- ing able to understand quite what was bothering me.

I decided that part of my frustration was due to the fact that I was positive Beth would never allow me to dress for the services. This feeling had backed up my own indecision and doubts. But now I was faced with the fact that Beth actually wanted me to dress; several times as we were eating I saw that un- mistakable look in her eyes when her glance caught mine.

When we were finished eat- ing Mary got up and looked at John saying, "If you're dressing I'll put your things in the suit- case. Beth and I have to get ready now."

Something compelled me to say, "Go on, Mary, pack his things, I want to see how he looks."

"Well, aren't you some- thing," Beth said sarcastically, "you want to see what he looks like, but you won't dress up. I think it's unfair."

"Well, I don't have anything dear, you know -- "Oh, we can fix that,' Mary said solicituously, "you're about John's height and build,' and quickly, as if to avoid any further discussion about the mat- ter, the girls retreated into the Davis bedroom, bubbling with their plans.

John and I went out on the front porch and waited while Mary and Beth got prepared for the services. My mind was flood- ing with questions and building anxiety but I was determined not to let John know it; I wanted to remaine objective. But it was only with the sheerest determin- ation that I could direct our con- versation away from the ap- 35

proaching matter at hand. At length, when when I felt that I could no longer avoid open discussion about going, the women came out onto the porch, each carrying a suitcase. John and I put the suitcases in the trunk of his car, and with the girls seated in the back seat, still chattering to themselves, I sat be- side John as we re-traced the drive of that morning, only now in the coolness of the evening coming over the vast expanse of Los Angeles.

I had once gone backstage at a burlesque house to see a slightly eccentric church bene- factor and as we drove along my mind conjured up a picture of the dressing room at The Church Of The Holy Femina would it be like that, I asked myself, all these men simpering around in high heeled shoes, fretting about their make-up, and the way their hair looked?

"What's it like - the place where you dress?" I asked John, in a guarded tone.

"Very descreet," he said as- suredly, "it's nothing like you would imagine. They have it fix- ed into small, individual cubicles where the wife can help her hus- band, or where two men can dress together or you can be alone." Hearing John say this was a source of immediate relief for me and for the remainder of the drive my mind went on to consi- dering other things I had as yet avoided thinking about. Some- where, but it was buried in the web of recollections concerning my strict boyhood in Southern Missouri, was the memory of one Halloween' party many years ago.

I had dressed on that occa- sion, in my sister's clothes. Parts of it were coming back. I remem- bered going to the party, and the fun it had been at first. Then I recalled the boys afterward, chas- ing me home along the dark, gravel road near our farm.

Before I allowed my mind to consider any more of that ter- rible experience we were parking in the church-yard. It was now almost totally dark with the old Spanish building casting an eerie shadow over the several cars al-