The Compleat Werewolf by Anthony Boucher

Author:Anthony Boucher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Media
Published: 2018-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

Mr. Lupescu

The teacups rattled, and flames flickered over the logs.

“Alan, I do wish you could do something about Bobby.”

“Isn’t that rather Robert’s place?”

“Oh you know Robert. He’s so busy doing good in nice abstract ways with committees in them.”

“And headlines.”

“He can’t be bothered with things like Mr. Lupescu. After all, Bobby’s only his son.”

“And yours, Marjorie.”

“And mine. But things like this take a man, Alan.”

The room was warm and peaceful; Alan stretched his long legs by the fire and felt domestic. Marjorie was soothing even when she fretted. The firelight did things to her hair and the curve of her blouse.

A small whirlwind entered at high velocity and stopped only when Marjorie said, “Bob-by! Say hello nicely to Uncle Alan.”

Bobby said hello and stood tentatively on one foot.

“Alan …” Marjorie prompted.

Alan sat up straight and tried to look paternal. “Well, Bobby,” he said. “And where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“See Mr. Lupescu ’f course. He usually comes afternoons.”

“Your mother’s been telling me about Mr. Lupescu. He must be quite a person.”

“Oh gee I’ll say he is, Uncle Alan. He’s got a great big red nose and red gloves and red eyes—not like when you’ve been crying but really red like yours’re brown—and little red wings that twitch only he can’t fly with them cause they’re ruddermentary he says. And he talks like—oh gee I can’t do it, but he’s swell, he is.”

“Lupescu’s a funny name for a fairy godfather, isn’t it, Bobby?”

“Why? Mr. Lupescu always says why do all the fames have to be Irish because it takes all kinds, doesn’t it?”

“Alan!” Marjorie said. “I don’t see that you’re doing a bit of good. You talk to him seriously like that and you simply make him think it is serious. And you do know better, don’t you, Bobby? You’re just joking with us.”

“Joking? About Mr. Lupescu?”

“Marjorie, you don’t— Listen, Bobby. Your mother didn’t mean to insult you or Mr. Lupescu. She just doesn’t believe in what she’s never seen, and you can’t blame her. Now, suppose you took her and me out in the garden and we could all see Mr. Lupescu. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Uh-uh.” Bobby shook his head gravely. “Not for Mr. Lupescu. He doesn’t like people. Only little boys. And he says if I ever bring people to see him, then he’ll let Gorgo get me. G’bye now.” And the whirlwind departed.

Marjorie sighed. “At least thank heavens for Gorgo. I never can get a very clear picture out of Bobby, but he says Mr. Lupescu tells the most terrible things about him. And if there’s any trouble about vegetables or brushing teeth, all I have to say is Gorgo and hey presto!”

Alan rose. “I don’t think you need worry, Marjorie. Mr. Lupescu seems to do more good than harm, and an active imagination is no curse to a child.”

“You haven’t lived with Mr. Lupescu.”

“To live in a house like this, I’d chance it,” Alan laughed. “But please forgive me now—back to the cottage and

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