A MATTER OF SIZE
By SAMUEL MINES
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Thrilling Wonder Stories February 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Professor Hiram Dexter put the finishing touches on his toilet bytenderly brushing out his crisp, black Vandyke beard. He stepped backto look at himself in the mirror. He had to stoop a little for even thefull-length glass was short for his six feet four inches of ganglingheight. Nevertheless he regarded his image with undiluted satisfaction.
"Ah, Dexter," he sighed, "you're a dashing rascal."
Humming tunelessly, for he was quite tone-deaf, he picked up a booktitled, "The Nutritive Quotient, Vitamin Factors And Trace Elements ofProtein-High Diets," put his hat on, the light out, and left the house.
Outside, a spring night hovered tenderly over the campus of FredoniaCollege. The darkness was alive with the richness of new grass,the vagrant perfumes of verbena, alyssum, calendula, nemophila andageratum, not to mention lobelia, mignonette, nicotiana, scabiosa,Kochia and salpiglossis. He knew them all and loved every Latinsyllable.
His nostrils dilated with pleasure as he strode, with a loose, almostclanking motion, along the concrete paths. It was a night for romance,for tender, whispered discussions of vitamins and tissue regeneration,of gamma rays and the atom.
Professor Dexter's heart welled with the rich pathos of life. Asstraight as the curving paths would allow, he headed directly for theneat brick house where dwelt his lady love: Professor Clarissa Wilkins,of the Domestic Science Department.
At the foot of her steps, a shadow loomed out of the dark. It was avery short, barrel-shaped shadow. Prof. Dexter leaned over from hisgreat height, to peer at it.
"Ah—is that you, Donald?" he queried.
"Who were you expecting?" snapped the tubby shadow peevishly."Hirohito?"
Professor Donald Curtis was in almost every way the opposite of hisfriend Hiram Dexter. He was five feet two inches in his elevator shoesand his circumference was better than that by two or three inches. Hewas as quick, and jumpy in his movements as a chipmunk and he seemed tobuzz around the taller, slower-moving man like an irritated bumble-bee.Nevertheless they were fast friends, rivals only in their physicsresearch—and for the hand of Professor Clarissa Wilkins.
They turned and ascended the steps together. Professor Curtis clutchedto his plump bosom a book titled: "A Statistical History of theNutritional Influence Upon Intelligence of the Child From One to Six."Neither were Greeks, but they both came bearing gifts subtly slanted totheir beloved's tastes.
Professor Dexter pressed the doorbell and a muted chime rang softlywithin. The door opened and light bathed them, pressing back the softdarkness of the spring night.
"Good evening, Professor," Professor Dexter said, beaming at the ladyin the doorway.
"Good evening, Professor," Professor Curtis echoed, smiling broadly.
"Oh, it's you," Professor Wilkins said. If this had been the South shewould have said you-all.
Clarissa was an energetic spinster in her forties with snapping blackeyes, graying hair drawn into a neat, no-nonsense bun at the backof her head and the most remarkable grasp of bio-chemistry of anywoman alive. Professors Dexter and Curtis admired her intellectualattainments extravagantly and mistook the admiration for love.
She let them in, accepted the