“I’m not so sure about this,” Mrs. Pritchet said dubiously. “You two seem so—eccentric.”
“This is an eccentric field,” Hamilton informed her. “Worse than fashions. Worse than catering for stag parties. But immensely rewarding.”
“But can you be certain,” Mrs. Pritchet persisted, “that your venture will be a financial success? I don’t like to invest unless I’m assured of a reasonable return.”
“Mrs. Pritchet,” Hamilton said severely, “it seems to me I once heard you say you wanted to be a patroness of the arts.”
“Oh heavens,” Mrs. Pritchet assured him, “there’s nothing more vital to society than a firm sponsorship of cultural activities. Life without the great artistic heritage created by generations of inspired geniuses—”
Then you’re doing the right thing,” Hamilton told her. “You’ve brought your loot to the right place.”
“My—”
“Your lute,” Bill Laws said. “You’ve brought your lute to the right place. We’re in the music business; with our rigs, the masses are going to hear music like they’ve never heard before. At hundreds of undistorted watts. At tens of thousands of cycles flat. It’s a cultural revolution.”
Putting his arm around his wife, Hamilton hugged her enthusiastically against him. “How does it look to you, honey?”
“Fine,” Marsha gasped. “But be careful of me—my burns, remember.” “You think it’ll be a success?”
“I certainly do.”
“That should satisfy anybody,” Hamilton said to Mrs. Pritchet, as he released his wife. “Right?”
Still doubtful, Edith Pritchet fumbled in her voluminous purse for her checkbook. “Well, it seems to be a good cause.”
“It’s a good cause, all right,” Hamilton agreed. ” ‘Cause if we don’t get the money, we won’t be able to operate.” With a sharp snap, Mrs. Pritchet closed her purse. “Perhaps I had better not get myself involved.”
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Marsha urged quickly. “Neither of them knows what he’s saying.”
“All right,” Mrs. Pritchet agreed, finally convinced. With great care and precision, she made out a check underwriting their initial expenses. “I expect to get this back,” she said sternly, as she handed the check to Laws. “As per the terms of our agreement”
“You will,” Laws said. And immediately leaped back in pain. Clutching his ankle, he bent angrily down and crushed something small and wriggling with his thumb.
“What is it?” Hamilton demanded.
“An earwig. Crawled up my sock and bit me.” Grinning uneasily, Laws added, “Just a coincidence.”
“We hope you’ll get your money back,” Hamilton explained to Mrs. Pritchet, just to be on the safe side. “We can’t promise, naturally. But we’ll do our best”
He waited, but nothing bit or stung him.
“Thank God,” Marsha breathed, with a glance at the check.
Heading eagerly toward the corrugated-iron shed, Bill Laws yelled, “What are we waiting for? Let’s get to work!”
Eye in the Sky Page 23
