“Okay, so we need to find a suit of armor to paint white for Grandpa's role as Il Commendatore,” 11-year-old Eleanor Ludlow was saying to her 11-year-old friend Velma Trent next door.
“Have you tried the museum?” Velma suggested. “I mean, since they are closed, they may be okay loaning a suit or two out to make some extra money.”
“Yeah, but, they're not going to want us to paint it.”
“Yeah, but you can use white fingernail polish and then fingernail polish remover, and it'll be as good as new.”
“Okay.”
“You know what a bigger problem is going to be, though?”
“What, Velma?”
“I don't know if they make white stockings in your grandfather's size, Eleanor.”
“Wouldn't they come with the suit from the museum, though, Velma?”
“I don't know, Eleanor. Mom says you just look at a pair of stockings wrong and they start running, so you figure a pair of stockings has been through one too many dirty looks since suits of armor were a thing.”
“That's a thought, Velma. Let me ask Andrew about this.”
10-year-old Andrew Ludlow came to the phone and had some useful information.
“Oh, yeah, they make stockings in Grandpa's size. Out in San Francisco, there are some big, tall drag queens. We just have to get Grandpa's measurements, and somebody out west will have a supply. Grandma is from San Francisco, so, she'll have contacts.”
Mrs. Ludlow turned bright pink when asked by Andrew about how to get some stockings for Grandpa from San Francisco because the old conservative Virginian had just walked in and was standing with his mouth wide open in the doorway.
“Well, Andrew, your grandfather is being cast as a Civil War-era old general, since he resembles Robert E. Lee with the white hair and beard. Someone is bleaching out a gray Confederate-style uniform for him, so he won't need the suit of armor and stockings.”
“Oh, this is good, Grandma, because I'm not sure the museums are as generous as Eleanor and Velma think they are,” Andrew said. “I mean, you start loaning out suits of armor, and after a while, you start having to pay for dent and detail work, and missing screws and stuff, and you know, they don't make a lot of parts for stuff not made since the 17th century. I mean, it's hard to get parts for cars like 40 years old, so things 400 years old? That just doesn't seem to be good business.”
“I think you'd make a great museum curator someday, the way you think, Andrew,” Mrs. Ludlow said.
“Thanks, Grandma!” said Andrew, and kissed her cheek.
He ran along to play, and Capt. Ludlow settled down on the sofa beside his wife.
“Thanks, Grandma,” he said, and kissed her other cheek.