"It's not about a Pogo stick, is it?"

He stared at her in amazement in the semidarkness. "Say, how did you get to hear about that?"

She laughed gently. "I have my spies. What did you get for Junior?"

"A fishing rod." There was a pause, and then he said, "I suppose you think I'm nuts."

She shook her head. "I don't. Did you get a Pogo stick?"

"No. Seems like they're completely out of stock."

"I know." They stood in silence for a moment. "I had a look at mine," she said. "You can have that if it's any good to you. But it's awfully old, and the metal parts are rusted through. It works still, but I don't think it could ever be made into a very nice present."

He nodded. "I noticed that. I think we'll have to let it go, honey. If I get time before we sail, I'll come up here and shop around for something else."

She said, "I'm quite sure it must be possible to get a Pogo stick. They must have been made somewhere here in Melbourne. In Australia, anyway. The trouble is to get one in the time."

"Leave it," he said. "It was just a crazy idea I had. It's not important."

"It is important," she said. "It's important to me." She raised her head. "I can get one for you by the time you come back," she said. "I'll do that, even if I have to get it made. I know that isn't quite what you want. But would that do?"

"That's mighty kind of you," he said huskily. "I could tell her you were bringing it along with you."

"I could do that," she said. "But anyway, I'll have it with me when we meet again."

"You might have to bring it a long way," he said.

"Don't worry, Dwight. I'll have it with me when we meet."

In the dark alcove he took her in his arms and kissed her. "That's for the promise," he said softly, "and for everything else. Sharon wouldn't mind me doing this. It's from us both."