MEDDLER'S MOON

BY GEORGE O. SMITH

Illustrated by Napoli

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Astounding Science-Fiction, September 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]



Peter Hedgerly heard the door open and close and he smiled at hisreflection in the mirror. He turned partly and called out through thesemi-closed bedroom door.

"Sit down, honey. I'll be right out."

Joan Willson was early, he thought, but it made no matter. It merelygave them more time togeth—

"I'll sit down," came a deep, pleasant masculine rumble, "but I'm notyour honey!"

Peter hit the door and skidded into the living room, his looseshirttail flying out behind him. "Who're you?" he demanded sharply.

"Please do not be disturbed. Finish dressing," said the stranger. Petermeasured him. A few pounds heavier than Peter's one hundred and sixty;an inch taller than Peter's five feet eleven. About the same sandyblond complexion. The face was wreathed in a beatific smile that in noway matched Peter's exasperation.

"I'm expecting a guest," snapped Peter. "The door was open for ... theguest. Not for stray strangers seeking company or whatever."

"I know. My presence will make no difference."

"No difference?" exploded Peter angrily. "Look, sport, three's a crowd.Technically, you're trespassing. Shall I prove it by calling thepolice?"

"You may if you wish," replied the stranger. "But I happen to know forcertain that you will not."

"No?" snapped Peter. He headed toward the telephone with all of thedetermination in the world. The stranger watched him tolerantly. Peterreached the table beside the door and reached for the phone. As hishand touched it, the door opened and Joan Willson came in. She gulpedat Peter and said: "Oh!"

Peter became aware of the fact that his nether raiment consisted ofshoes, socks, paisley-print shorts and a curtailed-shirttailed WPBmodel shirt.

He echoed Joan's "Oh!"

His ejaculation died like the diminishing wail of a retreating firesiren. That was because the duration of the monosyllabic diphthongexceeded the time necessary for Peter to gain the security of thebedroom where he donned his trousers and wished there were somethinghe could do to cover the blush of embarrassment on his face. His earsespecially.


Through the door he heard the stranger say: "Please come in, MissWillson. Peter's condition is but temporary."

"But why ... what ... and who are you?"

"That's a long story," replied the stranger. He turned and called outto Peter. "I told you you'd not call the police!"

"Police!" exclaimed Joan. "Peter, is ... is—?"

"Not at all," said the stranger, interrupting her and intercepting thewords which had been intended for Peter. "I've had too little time tomake explanation. I'm Joseph Hedgerly."

"Relative of his?" asked Joan.

"Quite. And quite close."

Peter called: "Never heard of you."

"You will," replied Hedgerly. "You see, Peter, I'm here to help you."

"And if I need no help?"

"You do."

"Let me be judge, huh?" snapped Peter.

"You're in poor position to judge. That's why this help is thrust uponyou, so to speak. After a bit you'll understand."

"Thanks," said Peter. Slowly he came into the living room again andfaced Joan, still flushed.

"Honest, Joan," he started, but the girl shrugged. "Don't apologize fora sheer accident," she said.

"It was n

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