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a leer. What really infuriated her was thatwhen she came to give her order, she foundthat Steinberg had taken aU the best meat.Even the ham! WeU, at least he wasn't tiresomelyorthodox. But it was a damned inconveniencewhen she had the Worthingtonscoming for dinner and bridge.Barbara Worthington, that evening, was fullof excitement. She had seen the carriers arriveand my dear, she said, it was just chock ofthe most divine furniture you ever did see.No- not at all modern—all fantastic antiques.There was a china cabinet that was out of thisworld; seventeenth century, she thought. Soheaven alone knew what kind of china he hadto put in it.Barbara, she decided, was more stupid thanshe thought. He probably didnt have suchfurniture to live with; Jews nearly always dealtin antiques. Let him try it in The Heights!He'd soon be told of the community's by-lawsabout conducting business on residential premises.Then he'd have to earn his lucre elsewhere.She was preparing for Andy to come homefrom college when Bessie Matthews burst in."Meissen!" Betty yelped."What? Where? What on earth is it?"Bessie looked at her ox-eyed."His china, of course," she replied. "Thewhole damn shebang. Meissen, mind you! Andnot only that, but all of it antique. Must beworth a fortune, to say the least . . .""What else would you expect!" she had toretort, and couldn't help the tartness that hadgiven it an edge.Next day at the chemist's, Hilda Haley said:"They've got a housekeeper. I ran into her atthe grocer's yesterday afternoon. From the city,of course. But I must say she's charming. Beenwith him for seventeen years, she told me. Anddo you know what? He's got a Rubens and aRaphael and two miniature van Dijks. Lots ofothers, too, the housekeeper told me. But youknow me, dear—simply hopeless at names. Imust say, I'd give anything to see them . . .""Just you dare!"Hilda looked as though she'd been hit withan axe."Oh Amy, how could you! You know Iwouldn't dream of it."But knowing Hilda Haley, she wouldn't putit past her.Bessie Matthews again: "You'd never believeit, but they've got a grand. And a Steinway atthat!""You mean piano?""Of course. What do you think! Henriettafound out. They've invited her to play it sometime.""They?""Henrietta met them both on the bus goingto school. They were going to the city.""You didn't let her, of course.""Let her what?""Try their goddam piano.""It hadn't occurred to me.""Well, it had better occur to you. Good Goddon'ttell me you've forgotten our campaignalready!"Bessie Matthews was indignant."Of course, I haven't. But reaUy, when youthink of it, Henrietta could make quite anuisance of herself. Well, couldn't she? If shewent every day? And even I know the limit ofHenrietta's playing—if she has a limit.""Well," she had to concur, "that could bean idea . . ."But to her amazement, Bessie's face had disintegratedinto something that might have beenrapture."Young Henderson plays," Bessie said."Rather well, I believe. In fact, I hear he hasgiven up engineering to be a concert pianist.Steinberg's his patron.""I'U bet!"Next was the car. Or cars, rather. No lessthan three of them. A Bentley for town, mindyou. A Lincoln station-sedan for the country.And young Henderson had a Porsche. She'dhave to warn at least sixteen families to keeptheir young sons away from that lot.But then came Henderson himself. Tall,blond, blue-eyed and James Dean wasn't in it.It made her, at just the sight of him, suddenlyand acutely uncomfortable with abdominal sensationsshe hadn't experienced in years. Ifshe'd thought her young Andy a good looker,he was an ogre in comparison. Oh the pity ofit!—when there were so many eUgible younggirls on The Heights. But then, of course, shehad to admit that it was probably those verygood looks that had made him what he was.She didn't read The Ladies' Home Journal andReaders' Digest for nothing. And those clothesof his! Even if he did have the body of anathlete, it was almost indecent the way heshowed it off. But you could hardly remarkWESTERLY, No. 1, MARCH, 1 968