[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Fantastic Universe March 1960.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Goro put down his tools and relaxed into a pile of wood shavings, hisback against a half-finished bathtub. To enjoy the evening cool, hetold himself, wiping his face with a blue and white rag. Actually,he wanted to postpone the evening meal. Either the rice would beovercooked to a sticky goo or he would be picking hard, underdonekernels out of his teeth all night. And bean soup, when he made it,always had things swimming in it that had no business there.
A night insect went weep-weep-weep. The sound, the nightfalling, and the thought of his own cooking made him think of his deadwife.
"She was a good cook, poor thing," he thought out loud. "My, my—how Imiss her."
He gave a deep sigh. Oh, to have a wife again—a jolly, round wife anda good cook. Just like the old one with perhaps the small exceptionthat she would not eat a man out of house and home and herself intothe grave in the bargain. Had he said that aloud? Bad sign, when a mantalks to the night insects—better to go into the house, better to eatrice and bean soup. He shuddered.
He began to get up and paused halfway, one hand against the wood of thetub, the other shielding his eyes. He peered into the forest that camealmost to the work yard. Someone was coming through there, he heard it.He sat down again. Fireflies flitted among the trees. What if it werehis wife's spirit—would it be a chubby ghost? It should be.
A woman walked out of the forest.
She was tall, he noticed, watching her thread her way among finishedand unfinished buckets and tubs, tall and slender—almost gaunt. Shehad her sleeves tied back out of the way with a white tasukicord, as though ready for hard work, and her bare arms were wiry andcapable looking.
She bowed.
Goro scrambled to his feet, catching a splinter or two in his shoulderon the way up. He bowed.
"Good evening," said the woman. "Is this the house of Goro, the cooperwho wants a wife that does not eat too much and is a good cook?"
Goro's eyes crossed and his mouth fell open. His fingers scrabbled.
"You do look unwell ... like a starved goldfish," said thewoman, "—I don't mean to seem rude."
"I haven't had dinner ..." said Goro, for want of anything brilliant tosay. He felt wondrously helpless; things like this did not usually comeup in the tub-making business.
"Naturally, poor thing. I'm sure you can't cook well, either," saidthe woman and Goro marvelled how ever she had guessed it. "Well, I cancook. I can do the work of three women. Into the house with you now,before you catch cold. Shoo!"
She drove him ahead of her into the house.
"I would say I'm quite charming," she said, closing the door behindthem, "when one gets used to me. As for my name, why, 'wife', I think,will do nicely."
And sometime in the next few days still with the feeling that he wasbeing left out of things, Goro found himself married.
The new wife was an excellent cook and indeed did the work of threeordinary women. Dinner was never late, and the house was generallyspotless. She spoke neither too much nor too little. On evenings whenGoro came home discouraged, she always had some good remark readyabout the tub-making business—how much artistry and labor went intoa good bucket, how unreasonably little money went to the hard-workingartist—cheering things, flattering things. Goro gained weight and wasnot unhappy. At mealtimes his wife