I
Ramon Sender
THE TERRACE
In Miss Slingsby's house lived a dog with a mother-of-pearl
collar, a castrated Siamese cat, and a parrot that knew how to
say "come again" to callers as they were departing. For Miss
Slingsby these three animals represented nature.
But Miss Slingsby died. With her hatred of extremes she
would have preferred to give the impression that she was dying
only a little, but she died, totally and forevermore. Four days
later Miss Slingsby's remains had been cremated and there, on
the jasper mantelpiece beside the Dresden clock, was a small gold
box with the inscription: "Ellen Slingsby.-1887-1945.-Laus
Deo." Under this inscription was the name of the funeral home
responsible for the cremation: "The Elysian Fields, Inc."
When the cook called for the ashes she was told that they
were usually kept at the mortuary until they were cold. Other–
wise as they cooled small particles might move inside the box,
making some slight sound, which sensitive people could associate
with the soul of the deceased.
Insisting that this did not matter, the cook left with the still
tepid ashes of Miss Slingsby.
About midday the lawyer, Mr. Arner, arrived at Miss
Slingsby's home. He was a middle aged man, blond and lean,
with a silhouette that somehow reminded one of a kangaroo. He
was scraping off the soles of his shoes on the felt mat when the
door opened.
The house was hushed. Mr. Arner took out a visiting card
and presented it to the maid. She read: "Froilan Amer, Attor-
