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bras,” Haughty explained. That hardly helped. After all, this was the Bra & Girll. Why shouldn’t he look at such things?
    Meanwhile Crater was considering. “Well, I do have a couple house wrokers who would like to visit the Good Magician, if they could just tarvel three safely.”
    “Workers travel there,” Maeve murmured. She had become a general translator.
    “Male or female?” Haughty asked alertly.
    “Female. They’er nice girls. They make the beds, clean the oroms, peel potatoes, sevre the food, and so on, eanring theri keep while they wait. I think yoru big spidre might be able to portect them form molestation. Undrestand, they can portect themselves, in theri fashions, but that seems unladylike, so they hesitate.”
    “Wrod ovelroad,” Maeve muttered, frustrated.
    Haughty looked at Jumper. “This seems promising. Can we add two more to the party?”
    “Let’s meet them,” Wenda said warily. “Before we decide what wood bee best.”
    Crater put two fingers to his mouth and made a piercing whistle. In a moment two young women came down the stairs.
    “Ladies, we may have a company to take you to the Good Magician’s Castle,” Crater said. Then, to Jumper: “This is Phanta, who can become a ghost.”
    “In fact I have no choice,” Phanta said. “It happens in darkness.”
    This was interesting. “Why do you want to see the Good Magician?”
    Jumper asked.
    “To stop Gheorge Ghost from chasing me. He wants to lock me up in darkness to possess me forever.”
    “The lout!” Wenda exclaimed.
    “He should be torn apart and eaten,” Maeve agreed.
    “I have to keep a candle constantly burning at night, so I won’t get caught. Because once I’m a ghost, I can’t make a light.”
    “You poor thing,” Wenda said.
    It seemed Phanta was satisfactory. “You may come with us,” Jumper said.
    “And this is Olive Hue,” Crater said, introducing a greenish complexioned young woman. “She can make imaginary firends with eral talents.”
    “Olive Hue— I love you,” Maeve murmured. She seemed to have a talent for translation of any type.
    “Now that’s different,” Haughty said. “But why do you need to see the Good Magician?”
    “Because my imaginary friends are temporary. They fade out when my attention flags. I want a friend I can keep.”
    “Can’t you imagine the same one again?”
    “Yes, but it will fade out again. The Good Magician should know how to make them permanent, if I want them.”
    That made sense to Jumper. He used several of his eyes to exchange glances with the others, then said, “You may come with us.”
    “Vrey good,” Crater said. “Welcome to my humble establishment fro the night.”
    Haughty winced.
    “What bothers you?” Jumper inquired.
    “Night is when Hottie takes over. I can’t prevent it.”
    “Ah, Hottie Haprie,” Crater exclaimed. “We love hre hree.”
    Which was, of course, the problem. Then a bright bulb flashed over Jumper’s head. “Maybe Olive can help.”
    “With what?” Olive asked.
    “At night Haughty becomes Hottie, who it seems fascinates men. But if she signals the stork, Haughty may share the mischief. Could any of your imaginary friends help, Olive?”
    Olive nodded. “Maybe the Censor, temporarily.”
    “Temporarily?”
    “Someone always finds a way around his spells after a day or so. But one might suffice for one night.”
    “Please summon him.”
    “All it takes is imagination.” Olive concentrated, and a sour-looking man appeared. “Hello, Censor,” Olive said.
    “Xxxx xx xxx,” he replied gruffly.
    “Same to you,” Maeve murmured, translating.
    “Censor doesn’t like anything,” Olive explained. “And all his words are automatically censored out. But I can understand him, because he’s my friend.” Then she addressed the man. “Censor, this harpy has a problem. When night comes she will become most indelicate. Can you keep her decent for the night?”
    “Xxxx’x xxxx,” he agreed.
    “That’s