He's not that old! cried Will to himself, blinking up at the three, as the Witch stopped, her shadow falling moist-frog cool on the hidden boys.
"... old man ..."
Mr. Halloway was jolted as by a series of cold knives thrust in his stomach.
"... old man ... old man ..." said the Witch.
She stopped this. "Ah ..." The hairs in her nostrils bristled. She gaped her mouth to savor air. "Ah ..."
The Illustrated Man quickened.
"Wait ...!" sighed the Gypsy.
Her fingernails scraped down an unseen blackboard of air.
Will felt himself yip, bark, whimper like an aggravated hound.
Slowly her fingers climbed down, feeling the spectrums, weighing the light. In another moment, a forefinger might thrust to the sidewalk grille, implying: there! there!
Dad! thought Will. Do something!
The Illustrated Man, gone sweetly patient now that his blind but immensely aware dust lady was here, watched her with love.
"Now ..." The Witch's fingers itched.
"Now!" said Will's father, loud.
The Witch flinched.
"Now, this is a fine cigar!" yelled Will's father, turning with great pomp back to the counter.
"Quiet ..." said the Illustrated Man.
The boys looked up.
"Now--" The Witch sniffed the wind.
"Got to light it again!" Mr. Halloway stuck the cigar in the eternal blue flame.
"Silence ..." suggested Mr. Dark.
"Ever smoke, yourself?" asked Dad.
The Witch, from the concussion of his fiercely erupted and overly jovial words, dropped one wounded hand to her side, wiped sweat from it, as one wipes an antenna for better reception, and drifted it up again, her nostrils flared with wind.
"Ah!" Will's father blew a dense cloud of cigar smoke. It made a fine thick cumulus surrounding the woman.
"Gah!" she choked.
"Fool!" The Illustrated Man barked, but whether at man or woman, the boys below could not tell.
"Here, let's buy you one!" Mr. Halloway blew more smoke, handing Mr. Dark a cigar.
The Witch exploded a sneeze, recoiled, staggered away. The Illustrated Man snatched Dad's arm, saw that he had gone too far, let go, and could only follow his Gypsy woman off, in some clumsy and totally unexpected defeat. But then, in going, he heard Will's father say, "A fine day to you, sir!"
No, Dad! thought Will.
The Illustrated Man came back