Little Myth Marker By Robert Asprin

“Can’t say I think much of her taste in clothes,”

Massha murmured to me as we paused once more while Bunny darted into a nearby booth.

To say the least, I was not eager to get drawn into a discussion comparing the respective tastes in clothes of Bunny and my apprentice.

“Different body types look better in different styles,” I said, as tactfully as I could.

“Yeah? And what style looks best on my body type?”

“In all honesty, Massha, I can’t picture you dressing any differently than you do.”

“Really? Say, thanks, Skeeve. A girl always likes to hear a few appreciative noises about how she looks.”

I had narrowly sidestepped that booby-trap and cast about frantically for a new subject before the other interpretation of my statement occurred to her.

“Umm … hasn’t Markie been well-behaved?”

“I’ll say. I’ll admit I was a little worried when you first brought her in, but she’s been an angel. I don’t think I’ve ever known a kid this patient and obedient.”

“Undemanding, too,” I said. “I’ve been thinking of getting her something while we’re out, but I’m having trouble coming up with anything appropriate. The Bazaar isn’t big on toy shops.”

“Are you kidding? It’s one big toy shop!”

“Massha…”

“Okay, okay. So they’re mostly toys for adults. Let me think. How old is she, anyway?”

“I’m not really sure. She said she was in the third grade at Elementary School. . . even though she calls it Elemental School… so that would make her…”

I realized that Massha was staring at me in wide-eyed horror.

“Elemental School!?”