The footsteps changed direction and came stamping up. Juno’s face was brick red from rage or outraged modesty.

“You put me down!” she demanded. “I know what you are, you’re a witch. There was one on the next farm back in Pennsylvania. Only witches make wax dolls of people and stick pins in them.”

For answer Mary gave the figurine an affectionate stroke. “No, Juno, I’m going to have to love you and you’re going to have to get used to it.” She looked up sweetly at Juno, who writhed at every touch Mary gave the figurine. “Incidentally, I really am a witch and if I had any choice, I would much rather stick needles through you.”

“Put me down!” Juno bellowed, raising her arms with all the muscles standing out tautly underneath the long, tight sleeves of her dress, as if she had a big rock she was going to drop on Mary.

Mary complied without haste and took down another of the figurines. Her voice was soft as a serpent gliding. “Would you rather I practiced loving on Jack? That’s what you make me do.”

“Don’t you touch him!” Juno’s face was almost purple. “Bad enough your going all gooey over him in the flesh, but this is worse. Stop touching him that way! Aaaaah!”

Phil ducked back as, with the last screaming bellow, Juno kicked the work table to one side so that its contents scattered and all the cats went scampering under tables and chairs. “I’m going to smash every last one of those dolls,” Juno announced, advancing.

Instantly Mary rose to her knees on the couch, her back to her little people, her arms outstretched protectingly to either side.

“Straight through the eyes,” she hissed, her face a fury’s mask, “that’s whereyour needles are going. Get thee before me, Satan!”

Phil never found out whether Juno was, as she seemed, a bit cowed by the diabolical venom in Mary’s voice, for just then there was a frantic padding of feet on the stairs and Jack Jones and Cookie burst into the room from the hall.

“Juno!” Jack yelled. “I told you I’d kill you if you ever came here!”

In the ensuing moment of silence Cookie could be heard to confirm primly, “He will, too.”

Juno turned on Jack, assuming the stance of a bear. “Listen, you ten-timing little stinker, you’re going straight home with me.” She hitched up her skirt and began to roll up, or rather rip up, the long sleeves of her frock. Her furpiece had already fallen off and her hat hung by a cropped hair.

Meanwhile Jack was surveying the scene and getting a real idea of how much damage had been done.

“Juno,” he said aghast, but advancing, “you’ve been wrecking the place, you’ve been wrecking the little people, you even brought the Ikeless Joe!” And in passing he gave Phil a shove that sent him up against the wall, his teeth rattling. “Don’t you see what you’ve done, Juno?” Jack continued with poignantly aggrieved indignation, as if he must convince Juno of the enormity of her actions before liquidating her. “You’ve done the one thing they won’t ever forgive, the one thing that’ll turn ’em against even me.” He was practically tearful. “Don’t you realize they’re the only two people in the world that mean anything to me? Don’t you realize that outside of Mary and Sacheverell, I don’t care a fig for anybody?”

Surprisingly to Phil, the retort to this came not from Juno, who was lifting her now bare arms menacingly, but from Cookie.

“Oh, so you don’t care anything about me, either,” he accused shrilly. “I’ve suspected it for a long time, and now you say it yourself.”

“Shut up, you’re just a dumb stooge,” Jack told him without looking around.

“Oh, so I’m just a dumb stooge, am I? Well let me tell you, Jackie, Juno’s right about one thing and I wish I’d admitted I agreed with her long ago. These Akeleys have turned your head. They’ve dazzled you.”

At that moment Sacheverell came popping back into the room, his brilliant silk robes fairly hissing against the black velvet. “Stop, at once!” he commanded, raising his arm. “You will disturbhis awakening. Rise above hate. Do you realize I can’t see anything of you but ink blobs, your auras are so black? Evenhe will be unable to reach you.”

“Shut up that silly talk abouthe, ”Cookie snarled. “I don’t want to hear the word again or anything more about your stupid cults that I had to pretend to be interested in. You’ve done Jackie quite enough damage as it is. Do you know we could have gotten thousand dollars for that cat you’re using for your idiotic mumbo-jumbo? Jack had just stun-gunned it and was all ready to hand it over to Moe Brimstine and collectten thousand dollars, when you have to prance in with thatugly witch of a wife of yours and make like a wizard and flatter Jackie into thinking he was starting a new religion or something and soft talk him into giving you the cat. I hate you. I want to hurt you.” And he started toward Sacheverell, walking on his toes and puffing out his sweatered chest like a bright blue fighting cock.

Once again to Phil’s surprise, Sacheverell’s horrified and reproachful gaze was turned not on Cookie, but Jack.

“Jack,” he gasped, “do you mean to tell me you shothim with a stun-gun, that you even dreamed of sellinghim for money? Judas!”

“Now see what you’ve done,” Jack moaned, not at Cookie, but at Juno. “You’ve spoiled everything.”

“I’ll spoil you, you rancid little intelleckchul-lover,” she roared and ran at him blindly like a novice. Jack’s face set itself in a shrewd grimace and he stepped lightly to one side and slipped out a hand for a hold. But just then Juno’s professional training seemed to come back to her and she checked herself, smoothly grabbed the wrist of the hand snaking toward her, bent, spun, and sent Jack sailing over her hip in a flying mare that landed him on the silver pentacled table. It toppled with a crash and various religious objects fell from the wall.

Meanwhile, Mary Akeley had picked up a small vise that had broken from her upset work table, and hurled it with great accuracy at Cookie’s head, but then Cookie suddenly hurled himself at Sacheverell’s throat and the vise passed through the space where Cookie’s head had been.

While all this was going on, Phil, completely to his surprise, walked coolly over to the shelves of figurines, carefully picked up that of Mitzie, and put it in his jacket pocket.

When he turned around, Jack had selected a black glass Aztec sacrificial knife from the fallen religious objects and writhed to his knees like a cobra. Juno picked up a rather small, but very solid, brass Buddha.

Nearer the velvet curtains, Cookie had Sacheverell on his back and was choking him, while Sacheverell, though his shoulder was pinned, was industriously trying to beat Cookie on the head with the silver chalice from which the cats had been drinking.

Mary had grabbed up some hatpins and darted forward. She hesitated whom to attack, then started for Cookie – not so much, Phil fancied, to help her husband but because Cookie’s “ugly” had rankled.

Never before, not even in the trenches and foxholes, had Phil Gish seen real murder in a human face.

Now he saw it in five.

And then, very suddenly, it wasn’t there at all.

The room grew very still. The black glass knife and the chalice clattered from Jack’s and Sacheverell’s hands. Mary’s hatpins struck the floor with a faint, vibrant rattle. Juno’s Buddha thudded on the Moslem prayer rug. Cookie’s hands unlocked themselves and writhed back, as if ashamed even before they had a message from the brain.

Expressions unlocked too. Hate furrows softened and vanished. Lips that had writhed back from teeth moistly returned. Eyes filled with painful understanding.

Jack said, in a soft, amazed voice, “Juno, you really do love me. You don’t just want to own me and shame me as a man.”

Juno said, “You really do care what I think, don’t you, Jack? Gosh!”