omething," she said. "You
haven't seen it."

He was interested. "An antique? Or what?"

She took his arm, leading him toward the dining-room. "You'll love it,
Bobby." She stopped, wide-eyed. "I hope you will. You must; you must
love it. It means so much to me--_he_ means so much."

"He?" Bob frowned. "Who is he?"

Doris laughed. "You're jealous! Come on." A moment later they stood
before the clock, looking up at it. "He'll come out in a few minutes.
Wait until you see him. I know you two will get along just fine."

"What does Larry think of him?"

"They don't like each other. Sometimes when Larry's here he won't come
out. Larry gets mad if he doesn't come out on time. He says--"

"Says what?"

Doris looked down. "He always says he's been robbed, even if he did get
it wholesale." She brightened. "But I know he won't come out because he
doesn't like Larry. When I'm here alone he comes right out for me, every
fifteen minutes, even though he really only has to come out on the
hour."

She gazed up at the clock. "He comes out for me because he wants to. We
talk; I tell him things. Of course, I'd like to have him upstairs in my
room, but it wouldn't be right."

There was the sound of footsteps on the front porch. They looked at each
other, horrified.

Larry pushed the front door open, grunting. He set his briefcase down
and took off his hat. Then he saw Bob for the first time.

"Chambers. I'll be damned." His eyes narrowed. "What are you doing
here?" He came into the dining-room. Doris drew her robe about her
helplessly, backing away.

"I--" Bob began. "That is, we--" He broke off, glancing at Doris.
Suddenly the clock began to whirr. The cuckoo came rushing out, bursting
into sound. Larry moved toward him.

"Shut that din off," he said. He raised his fist toward the clock. The
cuckoo snapped into silence and retreated. The door closed. "That's
better." Larry studied Doris and Bob, standing mutely together.

"I came over to look at the clock," Bob said. "Doris told me that it's a
rare antique and that--"

"Nuts. I bought it myself." Larry walked up to him. "Get out of here."
He turned to Doris. "You too. And take that damn clock with you."

He paused, rubbing his chin. "No. Leave the clock here. It's mine; I
bought it and paid for it."

In the weeks that followed after Doris left, Larry and the cuckoo clock
got along even worse than before. For one thing, the cuckoo stayed
inside most of the time, somet