The Umbrella Man and Other Stories by Roald Dahl Read Free Book Online Page B

said, laughing.
    “For goodness’ sake, Cyril! Why don’t you tell me?”
    “Because I want it to be a surprise. I’ll bring it home with me this evening.”
    “You’ll do nothing of the sort!” she cried. “I’m coming right down there to get it now!”
    “I’d rather you didn’t do that.”
    “Don’t be so silly, darling. Why shouldn’t I come?”
    “Because I’m too busy. You’ll disorganize my whole morning schedule. I’m half an hour behind already.”
    “Then I’ll come in the lunch hour. All right?”
    “I’m not having a lunch hour. Oh well, come at one-thirty then, while I’m having a sandwich. Good-bye.”
    At half past one precisely, Mrs. Bixby arrived at Mr. Bixby’s place of business and rang the bell. Her husband, in his white dentist’s coat, opened the door himself.
    “Oh, Cyril, I’m so excited!”
    “So you should be. You’re a lucky girl, did you know that?” He led her down the passage and into the surgery.
    “Go and have your lunch, Miss Pulteney,” he said to the assistant, who was busy putting instruments into the sterilizer. “You can finish that when you come back.” He waited until the girl had gone, then he walked over to a closet that he used for hanging up his clothes and stood in front of it, pointing with his finger. “It’s in there,” he said. “Now—shut your eyes.”
    Mrs. Bixby did as she was told. Then she took a deep breath and held it, and in the silence that followed she could hear him opening the cupboard door and there was a soft swishing sound as he pulled out a garment from among the other things hanging there.
    “All right! You can look!”
    “I don’t dare to,” she said, laughing.
    “Go on. Take a peek.”
    Coyly, beginning to giggle, she raised one eyelid a fraction of an inch, just enough to give her a dark blurry view of the man standing there in his white overalls holding something up in the air.
    “Mink!” he cried. “Real mink!”
    At the sound of the magic word she opened her eyes quick, and at the same time she actually started forward in order to clasp the coat in her arms.
    But there was no coat. There was only a ridiculous little fur neckpiece dangling from her husband’s hand.
    “Feast your eyes on that!” he said, waving it in front of her face.
    Mrs. Bixby put a hand up to her mouth and started backing away. I’m going to scream, she told herself. I just know it. I’m going to scream.
    “What’s the matter, my dear? Don’t you like it?” He stopped waving the fur and stood staring at her, waiting for her to say something.
    “Why yes,” she stammered. “I . . . I . . . think it’s . . . it’s lovely . . . really lovely.”
    “Quite took your breath away for a moment there, didn’t it?”
    “Yes, it did.”
    “Magnificent quality,” he said. “Fine colour, too. You know something, my dear? I reckon a piece like this would cost you two or three hundred dollars at least if you had to buy it in a shop.”
    “I don’t doubt it.”
    There were two skins, two narrow mangy-looking skins with their heads still on them and glass beads in their eye sockets and little paws hanging down. One of them had the rear end of the other in its mouth, biting it.
    “Here,” he said. “Try it on.” He leaned forward and draped the thing around her neck, then stepped back to admire. “It’s perfect. It really suits you. It isn’t everyone who has mink, my dear.”
    “No, it isn’t.”
    “Better leave it behind when you go shopping or they’ll all think we’re millionaires and start charging us double.”
    “I’ll try to remember that, Cyril.”
    “I’m afraid you mustn’t expect anything else for Christmas. Fifty dollars was rather more than I was going to spend anyway.”
    He turned away and went over to the basin and began washing his hands. “Run along now, my dear, and buy yourself a nice lunch. I’d take you out myself but I’ve got old man Gorman in the waiting room with a broken clasp