"Immensely more. So would w.i.l.l.y."

"And what is your element?" I asked.

"w.i.l.l.y's mind."

I ignored that because it led to the shakes department. I turned to w.i.l.l.y. I was getting excited.

"Now, w.i.l.l.y. You are your natural size. You are unsatisfied with it, because--uh--your peculiar talent is lousing up your profession. What is more, Red's size and element is the preference manifested in your mind.

Her element is doubly preferred, then, as against your own, by both of you, uh--"

"Making the preference unanimous," w.i.l.l.y suggested.

"Right," I said, pushing the thing out of my mind now that I'd stumbled through it. I spread my arms and gave what I hoped was a confident smile.

"There's your answer," I said.

I got blank looks.

"It's obvious!" I said to w.i.l.l.y. "You go to Red's element!"

w.i.l.l.y's meager features were perplexed, but Red caught the idea. She jumped excitedly back on her beau's lap. "Don't you see what he means, w.i.l.l.y? Draw yourself to my size!"

That is a verbatim report of what led up to w.i.l.l.y propping a full-length mirror in an easel and making a twelve-and-a-half inch full-length portrait of himself, with me drinking triple ryes while Red directed which of w.i.l.l.y's features should manifest the most prominence. It was a very good likeness of himself as he might have looked had he been the physical Adonis his mind pictured him as, which was only right, considering the element he was journeying to. Red insisted he wear a bathing suit that more or less matched her own.

When he was finished, he stepped back, naturally, to admire it.

"That's terrific!" I said, clapping him on the back.

"Watch on whom you're spilling the rye," Red flared. I apologized, and in my philanthropic state stooped to kiss her. She backed away.

"A kiss for the bride," I said, pouting. "That's all."

She laughed. "You'd swallow me." But she approached and stood up on tip-toe and bussed my nose.

"Break it up," w.i.l.l.y said, a new authority in his voice. "I've got to put my signature to the sketch." He tapped impatiently. "Red. Lie down beside the sketch."

Red flushed and placed her hands on her hips. "Now look here, w.i.l.l.y.

Don't you go getting too big for your boots!"

I guffawed. "It's the other way 'round! He'll be too _small_ for his boots."

This diverted the quarrel enough for w.i.l.l.y to give me final instructions, which he did from a p.r.o.ne position on the floor. "Is Red lying down beside the sketch, Jim?"

"Yup," I said, squinting at the once-again two-dimensioned Red-head.

"Now I'll transfer my mind to the sketch. I'll move an arm when I'm there."

He closed his eyes, and a straining expression twisted his features.

"Am I there yet?"

"Nope," I said, bringing my eyes to focus three inches from the sketch.

A few grunting moments pa.s.sed. "Am I there yet?"

"Nope," I said, stifling a yawn.

"Something's wrong," he said. I turned to look down at him. His straining expression was now from thought. I turned back to the layout pad, and jumped.

"What's taking him so long?" Red demanded, sitting up.

"He can't transfer," I said.

She gave me the schoolmarm expression, hands on hips. "Haven't you killed him yet?"

"Mmm?" I asked.

"You've got to _kill_ him, silly!"

I shook my head. "Unh-unh. Not me."

She started to cry. "I thought you _wanted_ us to get together!"

Feeling like a louse, I turned to look down at w.i.l.l.y. "She says I've got to kill you."

"How?"

Red had come to the edge of the drawing desk. "What does it matter, how?" she said sternly. "You know perfectly well that the only way to get rid of the body you're in is to die." She looked back at me. "What are you waiting for?"

I rubbed my head. "Somehow it doesn't seem--"

She sat back and wailed. w.i.l.l.y jumped from the floor and cupped her tenderly in his hands. "Don't cry, sweet. After all, it _is_ asking a lot of Jim."

"He gave us the solution," she cried, "and now he's backing out of his part in it!"

"Well," said w.i.l.l.y, "he wasn't expected to know he'd have to kill me--"

"How _else_ can you leave the body you're in?" she sobbed. "What did he expect you'd do? Occupy two bodies at the same time?"

w.i.l.l.y looked at me. I shrugged. "Have to confess I hadn't thought of it," I muttered, only half aware that they had me over a barrel. I was half tempted to ask w.i.l.l.y to fill my rye gla.s.s with pastels again, but it seemed an imposition at the moment.

"Oh, what the h.e.l.l," I said committingly. "I'm not the kind of guy to let a friend down over a technicality!"

Red leapt to my lap and clambered up my shirtfront. "I _knew_ you wouldn't let us down!" she said happily, and bussed my chin. Before I could be modest about it she had bounded to the desk-top and was stretching herself out beside w.i.l.l.y's drawing of himself. w.i.l.l.y and I stared from her to each other.