"We'll have to send it back," Ann said, "and get the one we ordered." She tried to take it off, but the child squawked violently. Ann grabbed her daughter's arms, held them above her head and pulled at the dress. It seemed to be stuck somewhere. When Ann released the child's arms to loosen the dress, Sally squirmed away. She took one step forward, then began to float three inches above the ground. She landed just before she collided with the far wall. Sally looked scared until she saw her mother's face. Then she squealed in delight. Ann's legs were rubber. She was shaking her head and wobbling uncertainly toward her daughter when the door opened behind her. "It's me," her husband said. "Slow day at the office, so I came home early." "Les! I'm going crazy or something. Sally just--" Sally crouched to jump at her father. Before she could leap, he grabbed her up bodily and hugged her. Then he saw the box. "Your order's here? Good. What's this thing?" He was looking at a small box he had pulled from the carton. Its lid contained a single word: MANKY. The box rattled when he shook it. Les pulled off the lid and found inside a circular, shiny metal object. A triangular trio of jacks stuck out from one end. "Is this the doorbell? I've never seen a plug like this. And there's no wire." "I don't know," Ann said. "Les, listen. A minute ago, Sally--" He peered into the box for an instruction sheet, uselessly. "They must have made a mistake. It looks like some kind of farm equipment." He tossed the manky onto the hassock and delved into the carton again. Sally was still in his arms. "That's the doorbell, I think," he said, looking at the next object. It had a lovely, tubular shape, a half-dozen connecting rods and a plug for a wall socket. "That's funny," Ann mused, her mind distracted from Sally for a moment. "It looks terribly expensive. Maybe they sent door chimes instead of the doorbell." The bottom of the carton contained the detective outfit that they had ordered for their son. Ann glanced at its glaringly lithographed cover and said: "Les, about Sally. Put her down a minute and watch what she does." * * * * * Les stared at his wife and put the child onto the rug. Sally began to walk, then rose and again floated, this time toward the hassock on which the manky lay. His jaw dropped. "My God! Ann, what--" Ann was staring, too, but not at her daughter. "Les! The hassock! It used to be brown!" The hassock was a livid shade of green. A neon, demanding, screaming green that clashed horribly with the soft browns and reds in which Ann had furnished the room. "That round thing must be leaking," Les said. "But did you see Sally when she--" Ann's frazzled nerves carried a frantic order to her muscles. She jumped up, strode to the hassock and picked up the manky with two fingers. She tossed it to Les. Immediately, she regretted her action. "Drop it!" she yelled. "Maybe it'll turn you green, too!"