out every quarter hour and ran the spring down without remorse, and someone had to be ever after it, winding it up again.
Doris did her best, but she forgot a good deal of the time. Then Larry would throw his newspaper down with an elaborate weary motion and stand up. He would go into the dining-room where the clock was mounted on the wall over the fireplace. He would take the clock down and making sure that he had his thumb over the little door, he would wind it up.
“Why do you put your thumb over the door?” Doris asked once.
“You’re supposed to.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I wonder if it isn’t that you don’t want him to come out while you’re standing so close.”
“Why not?”
“Maybe you’re afraid of him.”
Larry laughed. He put the clock back on the wall and gingerly removed his thumb. When Doris wasn’t looking he examined his thumb.
There was still a trace of the nick cut out of the soft part of it. Who—or what—had pecked at him?
* * * *
One Saturday morning, when Larry was down at the office working over some important special accounts, Bob Chambers came to the front porch and rang the bell.
Doris was taking a quick shower. She dried herself and slipped into her robe. When she opened the door Bob stepped inside, grinning.
“Hi,” he said, looking around.
“It’s all right. Larry’s at the office.”
“Fine.” Bob gazed at her slim legs below the hem of the robe. “How nice you look today.”
She laughed. “Be careful! Maybe I shouldn’t let you in after all.”
They looked at one another, half amused half frightened. Presently Bob said, “If you want, I’ll—”
“No, for God’s sake.” She caught hold of his sleeve. “Just get out of the doorway so I can close it. Mrs. Peters across the street, you know.”
She closed the door. “And I want to show you something,” she said. “You haven’t seen it.”
He was interested. “An antique? Or what?”
She took his arm, leading him toward the dining-room. “You’ll love it, Bobby.” She stopped, wide-eyed. “I hope you will. You must; you must love it. It means so much to me— he means so much.”
“He?” Bob frowned. “Who is he?”
Doris laughed. “You’re jealous! Come on.” A moment later they stood before the clock, looking up at it. “He’ll come out in a few minutes. Wait until you see him. I know you two will get along just fine.”
“What does Larry think of him?”
“They don’t like each other. Sometimes when Larry’s here he won’t come out. Larry gets mad if he doesn’t come out on time. He says—”
“Says what?”
Doris looked down. “He always says he’s been robbed, even if he did get it wholesale.” She brightened. “But I know he won’t come out because he doesn’t like Larry. When I’m here alone he comes right out for me, every fifteen minutes, even though he really only has to come out on the hour.”
She gazed up at the clock. “He comes out for me because he wants to. We talk; I tell him things. Of course, I’d like to have him upstairs in my room, but it wouldn’t be right.”
There was the sound of footsteps on the front porch. They looked at each other, horrified.
Larry pushed the front door open, grunting. He set his briefcase down and took off his hat. Then he saw Bob for the first time.
“Chambers. I’ll be damned.” His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?” He came into the dining-room. Doris drew her robe about her helplessly, backing away.
“I—” Bob began. “That is, we—” He broke off, glancing at Doris. Suddenly the clock began to whirr. The cuckoo came rushing out, bursting into sound. Larry moved toward him.
“Shut that din off,” he said. He raised his fist toward the clock. The cuckoo snapped into silence and retreated. The door closed. “That’s better.” Larry studied Doris and Bob, standing mutely together.
“I came over to look at the clock,” Bob said. “Doris told me that it’s a
Doris did her best, but she forgot a good deal of the time. Then Larry would throw his newspaper down with an elaborate weary motion and stand up. He would go into the dining-room where the clock was mounted on the wall over the fireplace. He would take the clock down and making sure that he had his thumb over the little door, he would wind it up.
“Why do you put your thumb over the door?” Doris asked once.
“You’re supposed to.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I wonder if it isn’t that you don’t want him to come out while you’re standing so close.”
“Why not?”
“Maybe you’re afraid of him.”
Larry laughed. He put the clock back on the wall and gingerly removed his thumb. When Doris wasn’t looking he examined his thumb.
There was still a trace of the nick cut out of the soft part of it. Who—or what—had pecked at him?
* * * *
One Saturday morning, when Larry was down at the office working over some important special accounts, Bob Chambers came to the front porch and rang the bell.
Doris was taking a quick shower. She dried herself and slipped into her robe. When she opened the door Bob stepped inside, grinning.
“Hi,” he said, looking around.
“It’s all right. Larry’s at the office.”
“Fine.” Bob gazed at her slim legs below the hem of the robe. “How nice you look today.”
She laughed. “Be careful! Maybe I shouldn’t let you in after all.”
They looked at one another, half amused half frightened. Presently Bob said, “If you want, I’ll—”
“No, for God’s sake.” She caught hold of his sleeve. “Just get out of the doorway so I can close it. Mrs. Peters across the street, you know.”
She closed the door. “And I want to show you something,” she said. “You haven’t seen it.”
He was interested. “An antique? Or what?”
She took his arm, leading him toward the dining-room. “You’ll love it, Bobby.” She stopped, wide-eyed. “I hope you will. You must; you must love it. It means so much to me— he means so much.”
“He?” Bob frowned. “Who is he?”
Doris laughed. “You’re jealous! Come on.” A moment later they stood before the clock, looking up at it. “He’ll come out in a few minutes. Wait until you see him. I know you two will get along just fine.”
“What does Larry think of him?”
“They don’t like each other. Sometimes when Larry’s here he won’t come out. Larry gets mad if he doesn’t come out on time. He says—”
“Says what?”
Doris looked down. “He always says he’s been robbed, even if he did get it wholesale.” She brightened. “But I know he won’t come out because he doesn’t like Larry. When I’m here alone he comes right out for me, every fifteen minutes, even though he really only has to come out on the hour.”
She gazed up at the clock. “He comes out for me because he wants to. We talk; I tell him things. Of course, I’d like to have him upstairs in my room, but it wouldn’t be right.”
There was the sound of footsteps on the front porch. They looked at each other, horrified.
Larry pushed the front door open, grunting. He set his briefcase down and took off his hat. Then he saw Bob for the first time.
“Chambers. I’ll be damned.” His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?” He came into the dining-room. Doris drew her robe about her helplessly, backing away.
“I—” Bob began. “That is, we—” He broke off, glancing at Doris. Suddenly the clock began to whirr. The cuckoo came rushing out, bursting into sound. Larry moved toward him.
“Shut that din off,” he said. He raised his fist toward the clock. The cuckoo snapped into silence and retreated. The door closed. “That’s better.” Larry studied Doris and Bob, standing mutely together.
“I came over to look at the clock,” Bob said. “Doris told me that it’s a
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