* * * * *
It's true! Somehow, this woman had shrunken down to approximately five feet/seven inches in her bare feet. Which made her about four inches shorter than me.
Furthermore, she was wearing a black dressing gown with a sash that was not too tightly secured. I could therefore tell that she was wearing scandalously short shorts that were the same shade of black as her bustier (also partially visible beneath the dressing gown).
Sir Anthony, of course, had already noticed this paradoxical diminuition, and diplomatically commented on it.
"I must confess, my dear! I thought your dressing room would be a lot...bigger."
The woman laughed and asked us if we could keep a secret. When we both nodded, she pointed to the upper right corner of her dressing room, which was immediately to the right of her vanity table.
There, leaning against the wall, were a pair of stilts.
"Ah!" Sir Anthony exclaimed: "So, you're a stilt walker, too? You truly are versatile, Miss Limnades."
The woman laughed, again.
"My real name is Pam. Pamela Plaisantine, from Port Manteau, Louisiana."
"Regretfully, I'm afraid I've never heard of it."
"Most people haven't. It's just a small hick town on the shores of the Red River, somewhere between Shreveport and Alexandria. I doubt even Randy McNally, himself, could find it on any map!"
Neither one of us corrected her mistake. I had a strong feeling that she was only pretending to be semi-literate. And, from the polite half-smile on his face, I had no doubt that Sir Anthony thought the same thing. So, I let him continue being the chief combatant in this duel of wits.
"Where did you learn how to stilt-walk?" he asked.
"From Papa! He comes from a long line of sheep farmers, in Gascony. And, according to him? They had to resort to it, every rainy spring, in order to follow the sheep around through the mud."
"And, you're superb terpsichore. Where did you pick that up? Or, is that a secret, too?"
She smiled: "Not at all! I worked as a doughtnut dolly, in London, during the World War. And, I shared a flat with this Egyptian girl who was a Red Crescent nurse, from Cairo. We eventually became good enough friends that she gave me some dance lessons."
"Lessons you obviously learned very well," I commented.
"Why, thank you!" she replied: "I just knew, from the way you two were eyeing me through those little binoculars, that you had a special interest in me. But, I must confess. I thought you might be talent agents from Hollywood! You see, there's been talk, up and down the circuit, that one of the big studios is looking for a suitable leading lady for a movie version of THE THOUSAND AND ONE ARABIAN NIGHTS."
Sir Anthony developed a melodramatic frown.
"Then, in that regard, I'm afraid we must disappoint you. The good doctor and I are merely co-workers on summer holiday. And, we deigned to call on you, post-performance, simply to express our admiration for your..."
The rest of his flowery speech was interrupted by the slamming open of the dressing room door.
"Button your lip, Shakespeare, and beat it! The little lady has other plans."
This unquestionably rude comment was uttered by the nearer of the two men who had barged into the dressing room. And, the tommy guns they were toting prevented any kind of immediate rejoinder!
tbc
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
JUNE 27, 1921