velvet ropes in shadowy museums. His face was almost without lines except for the tiny sprays of crow's-feet around his eyes, but his age was unmistakable (and a little scary): his blue eyes were faded to the watery gray of an April sky and his skin had a translucent clarity that reminded Ralph of Nat's skin. His lips were loose and almost lavender in color. They made little smacking sounds when he spoke. "That's all right, I didn't come to visit; I came to give you a message."
"What message? From who?"
"I don't know who it's from," Dorrance said, giving Ralph a look that suggested he thought Ralph was either being foolish or playing dumb. "I don't mess in with long-time business. I told you not to, either, don't you remember?"
Ralph did remember something, but he was damned if he knew exactly what. Nor did he care. He was tired, and he had already had to listen to a fair amount of tiresome proselytizing on the subject of Susan Day from Ham Davenport. He had no urge to go round and round with Dorrance Marstellar on top of that, no matter how beautiful this Saturday morning was. "Well then, just give me the message," he said, "and I'll toddle along upstairs. How would that be?"
"Oh, sure, good, fine." But then Dorrance stopped, looking across the street as a fresh gust of wind sent a funnel of leaves storming into the bright October sky. His faded eyes were wide, and something in them made Ralph think of the Exalted amp; Revered Baby again-of the way she had snatched at the gray-blue marks left by his fingers, and the way she had looked at the flowers sizzling in the vase by the sink.
Ralph had seen Dor stand watching airplanes take off and land on Runway 3 with that same slack-jawed expression, sometimes for an hour or more.
"Dor?" he prompted.
Dorrance's sparse eyelashes fluttered. "Oh! Right! The message!
The message is..." He frowned slightly and looked down at the-book which he was now bending back and forth in his hands. Then his face cleared and he looked up at Ralph again. "The message is, "I 'Cancel the appointment.
It was Ralph's turn to frown. "What appointment?"
"You shouldn't have messed in," Dorrance repeated, then heaved a big sigh. "But it's too late now. Done-bun-can'the-undone. just cancel the appointment. Don't let that fellow stick any pins in you."
Ralph had been turning to the porch steps; now he turned back to Dorrance. "Hong? Are you talking about Hong?"
"How would I know?" Dorrance asked in an irritated tone of voice.
"I don't mess in, I told you that. Every now and then I carry a message, is all, like now. I was supposed to tell you to cancel the appointment with the pin-sticker man, and I done it. The rest is up to
YOU."
Dorrance was looking up at the trees across the street again, his odd, lineless face wearing an expression of mild exaltation. The strong fall wind rippled his hair like seaweed. When Ralph touched his shoulder the old man turned to him willingly enough, and Ralph suddenly realized that what Faye Chapin and the others saw as foolishness might actually be joy. If so, the mistake probably said more about them than it did about Old Dor.
"Dorrance?"
"What, Ralph?"
"This message-who gave it to you?"
Dorrance thought it over-or perhaps only appeared to think it over-and then held out his copy of Cemetery Nights. "Take it."
"No, I'll pass," Ralph said. "I'm not much on poetry, Dor."
"You'll like these. They're like stories-" Ralph restrained a strong urge to reach out and shake the old man until his bones rattled like castanets. "I just picked up a couple oat operas downtown, at Back Pages. What I want to know is who gave you the message about-" Dorrance thrust the book of poems into Ralph's right hand-the one not holding the Westerns-with surprising force. "One of them starts, 'Each thing I do I rush through so I can do something else."
"And before Ralph could say another word, Old Dor cut across the lawn to the sidewalk. He turned left and started toward the Extension with his face turned dreamily up to the blue sky where the leaves flew wildly, as if to some rendezvous over the horizon.
"Dorrance! "Ralph shouted, suddenly infuriated. Across the street at the Red Apple, Sue was sweeping fallen leaves off the hot-top in front of the door. At the sound of Ralph's voice she stopped and looked curiously over at him. Feeling stupid-feeling