"Oh! Hello, George. What've you got your suit-case for?" Mr. Howard stood blinkingly in the doorway, his hand poised to knock.
George shrugged. "I dunno."
"George, there's somebody in the kitchen I'd for you to meet."
George followed his father into the kitchen. A paunchy, cheerful man with a brief-case was sitting at the table. His face was red and cheeky like a baby's and his hair curled up in the back like Donald Duck.
"George!" he said. He spoke in a big, booming voice, like he was officiating at a town hall meeting. "I've been hearing all about you!"
"This is Dr. Wendall. He works at the Museum.'
Mrs. Howard came in with warm ginger-snaps and cold sodas.
"He's the curator of the Museum." she specified severely.
"Really?' said George politely.
"Really really George!" said Dr. Wendall. He thought that George must be very impressed to meet a museum curator in the flesh.
"I'm the big man in charge of the museum. Jillian, these are without a doubt the most inspiring and edifying ginger-snaps that I have ever known. But George, I want you to know that I'm not here to talk to you about ginger-snaps. I'm here to talk to you about the deal of a lifetime. I'm here to talk to you about your Boomerang."
"Oh no, Dr. Wendall! - don't buy it! It will kill you; it's magical and very evil!"
"That's all right, George, that's all right. Just calm yourself down a minute. You see, I've heard tell of your Boomerang, and I know of its mystical powers. I've heard rumors of a Boomerang that seems to have a mind of its own, that brings vengeance to the vengeful, but gives back the same punishment in full measure. I've heard about a Boomerang that follows its master all the way across the world. It seem that only 6 were made, then production was suddenly stopped. Because my museum is of course interested in curiosities, I had a mind to find one for our collection.
"I was beginning to lose hope that I could track one down, but then today your father called me up and mentioned about what you have here. It seems to me, George, that what you have is a pretty Amazing Boomerang. And I am hoping that you will consider selling it."
George shook his head. "I'm sorry Dr. Wendall, but I just can't sell it to you."
"But you see George - you wouldn't be selling it to me - you'd be selling it to the museum."
"Don't you see how it would be, George?" said Mr. Howard. "A museum can't throw a boomerang. It hasn't got any arms or hands."
"There's logic!" said Mr. Wendall. "I couldn't have said it better."
He took out a shiny black check-book, and wrote an amount which is not important on it.
"Take a look at that, George, and see what you think of it."
George took a look, but he didn't even see the numbers. He didn't care, not one bit.
"So ... "he heard Dr. Wendall say, "... do we have a deal?"
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