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took off her glasses. 'Why, what is it?'
    'This!' Anacleto brought a footstool to the side of the bed and eagerly drew from his
     pocket some little scraps of cloth. 'These samples I ordered for us to look over. And now
     think back to the time two years ago when we passed by the window of Peck and Peck in New
     York City and I pointed out a certain little suit to you.' He selected one of the samples
     and handed it to her. 'This material made exactly in that way.'
    'But I don't need a suit, Anacleto,' she said.
    'Oh, but you do! You have not bought a garment in more than a year. And the green frock
     is bien usee at the elbows and ready for the Salvation Army.'
    When Anacleto brought out his French phrase he gave the Major a glance of the merriest
     malice. It always made the Major feel rather eerie to listen to them talking together in
     the quiet room. Their voices and enunciation were so precisely alike that they seemed to
     be softly echoing each other. The only difference was that Anacleto spoke in a chattering,
     breathless manner, while Alison's voice was measured and composed.
    'How much is it?' she asked.
    'It is costly. But one could not expect to get such a quality for anything less. And
     think of the years of service.'
    Alison turned back to her book again. 'We'll see about it.'
    'For God's sake, go ahead and buy the dress,' the Major said. It bothered him to hear
     Alison haggle.
    'And while we're about it we might order an extra yard so that I can have a jacket,'
     Anacleto said.
    'All right If I decide to get it.'
    Anacleto poured Alison's medicine and made a face for her as she drank it. Then he put an
     electric pad behind her back and brushed her hair. But as he started out of the room, he
     could not quite get past the full length mirror on the closet door. He stopped and looked
     at himself, pointed his toe and cocked his head.
    Then he turned back to Alison and began to whistle again. 'What is that? You and
     Lieutenant Weincheck were playing it last Thursday afternoon.'
    'The opening bar of the Franck A Major Sonata.'
    'Look!' said Anacleto excitedly. 'It has just this minute made me compose a ballet. Black
     velvet curtains and a glow like winter twilight. Very slowly, with the whole cast Then a
     spotlight for the solo like a flame very dashing, and with the waltz Mr. Sergei
     Rachmaninoff played. Then the finish goes back to the Franck, only this time ' He looked
     at Alison with his strange, bright eyes. 'Drunk!'
    And with that he began to dance. He had been taken to the Russian ballet a year before
     and he had never got over it. Not a trick, not a gesture had escaped him. On the gray rug
     he moved about in a languid pantomime that slowed down until he stood quite still with his
     feet in their sandals crossed and his fingertips touched together in a meditative
     attitude. Then without warning he whirled lightly and began a furious little solo. It was
     apparent from his bright face that in his own mind he was out on an immense stage, the
     cynosure in a dazzling spectacle. Alison, also, was plainly enjoying herself. The Major
     looked from one to the other in disgusted disbelief. The last of the dance was a drunken
     satire of the first. Anacleto finished with an odd little pose, his elbow held in one hand
     and his fist to his with an expression of wry puzzlement
    Alison burst out laughing. 'Bravo! Bravo! Anacleto!'
    They laughed together and the little Filipino leaned against the door, happy and a bit
     dazed. At last he caught his breath and exclaimed in a marveling voice, 'Have you ever
     noticed how well “Bravo” and “Anacleto” go together?'
    Alison stopped laughing and nodded thoughtfully. 'Indeed, Anacleto, I have noticed it
     many times.'
    The little Filipino hesitated in the doorway. He glanced around the room to make sure
     that nothing was wanting. Then he looked into her face and his eyes were suddenly shrewd
     and very sad. 'Call me if you