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however. At this distance from the floor, she could not afford to risk ascending to the very top step. If she fell, it would be nearly the equivalent of pitching from the top of a modern two-story building. Looking down made Laura feel a little dizzy. She did her best, then, to keep her attention well above floor level. She placed her pad, pen, and ruler on the top of the ladder, readied her instant developing camera, and began to snap pictures of the medallion. As the camera ejected the prints, she placed them in a row, waiting for them to grow clearer. It was important that she get a good clear shot of every detail. The medallion, with its swirling acanthus-leaf design, did not look that large from below, but seen this close, it was enormous. It was only as she undertook a task like this that the gigantic proportions of these old houses were brought home to her. These double parlors, for instance, when the huge sliding panels that divided them were thrown open, made a room twenty-five feet wide and fifty feet long, suitable for a large party or a ball. There were houses in many of the suburbs of the United States with fewer square feet.
    “What do you think you are doing?”
    As the harsh words rang out, Laura turned her head sharply. That sudden movement on her precarious perch was enough to affect her balance. She wavered and bent quickly to catch the top step. Her camera flew out of her hand, and she watched hopelessly as it tumbled downward.
    It never struck the floor. Justin moved with incredible swiftness to catch it, then stood weighing it in his hand.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” Laura flung his own words back at him. “Sneaking up behind me like that? This is the second time, too. Is it just a bad habit of yours, or do you get a charge out of scaring the wits out of people?”
    “Sorry,” he answered, his tone mild. “I had no idea you meant to do anything like this. I was so surprised to see you up there, I didn’t think.”
    His matter-of-fact apology was disconcerting. Laura stared down at his upturned face a long instant. Her voice stiff, she said, “If you really want to know what I’m doing, I’m taking the specifications on this medallion.”
    “Why? For what reason?”
    “There is supposed to be one just like it in the second parlor, but at some time it was either removed or else it fell from the ceiling, probably when the chandelier that hung from it was removed, when all the rest were stripped from the house. There are companies that still make medallions to order using the old patterns. It’s possible they may have a mold Just like this one. At any rate, I intend to take the pictures and measurements to them to find out.”
    “What happens if they don’t have a mold.”
    “In that case, a polyester cast will have to be made, and the company will construct a special mold to duplicate it.”
    He considered that a moment. “Do you have all the pictures yon need?”
    “Yes, I think so,” she answered, glancing down at the prints spread on the steps. They seemed to be a complete representation of the medallion overhead. “I still have to take the measurements.”
    “Come down and let me do it,” he said, a peremptory note in his voice.
    “No thank you. I can manage.” She straightened with the ruler in her hand, unfolding it as she spoke.
    “I would rather you didn’t break your neck while I’m watching.”
    “May I remind you,” she answered, her tone stringent, “that this is my job. You can hold the ladder, if you like. I seem to remember warning you of the possibility of being drafted for that.”
    It was a moment before he answered, and then his voice was stiff. “Do you have paper and something to write with up there?”
    “Of course,” she snapped.
    “Throw them to me, and I’ll take down the measurements as you call them out.”
    It was a sensible suggestion, since it would prevent her from having to bend and straighten again and again as she jotted down