“Well, I don’t know, really. I don’t recall meeting you before.”

“Didn’t Tweety reach you?”

“Tweety?”

The young woman turned to Lawrence. “Listen, she isn’t supposed to be here. And I don’t know what you’re doing here, either.”

“It’s a bit difficult to explain,” Lawrence said.

“Cromwell,” the woman shouted. “You better come over here.”

Lydia turned toward Cromwell’s body, which just sat there. The young man looked up from his book. “What’s the matter? I’m reading.” He came over, tipping his green fedora when he saw Lydia.

“This is your old friend, Lydia, believe it or not,” the woman said. “At least I think it is. And she doesn’t have the slightest idea what’s going on. Figure that one out.”

Cromwell smiled with brilliant recognition. “Of course! I was so busy I didn’t pay any attention; I just knew some people had come in; our kind, I mean.” He looked at Lydia. “But you turned into your younger self once when you were out of body with me. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

“But I—” Lydia began.

He interrupted her, smiling. “Fantastic to see you again. Is this gentleman a friend of yours? We’re the only ones left of—hah—the old crew!”

“The old crew?” Lydia asked.

“She doesn’t know,” Lawrence said significantly. “She won’t believe me.”

“Oh, she doesn’t know?” The young man grinned. “So you don’t want to remember, huh?” he said to Lydia with a laugh.

“Remember what?” Lydia said sharply. “Are you Cromwell’s grandson or something? It’s not very nice of you to carry on so, when he’s in such terrible condition.”

“It certainly isn’t,” he said gleefully. “He can’t even spit through his teeth any more.”

Lydia was shocked. And suddenly she felt very tired.

“How long are you going to avoid facing it?” the young man said. “Watch.”

He grinned at her and walked over to old man Cromwell’s body—and disappeared into it. Cromwell opened his eyes.

That’s all that was necessary. Lydia ran over to the window, crying. And in her mind’s eye she saw herself and Cromwell, two senile old people flying over the grounds, looking down at the strollers below, and the benches. And it all came back.

“What a nasty trick,” she gasped, when she could talk. “I’d have faced it myself. It’s just so unbelievable—”

“You’re so hardheaded,” Lawrence said.

Cromwell, the young one, sauntered across the room. “At least you’re safely dead,” he said. “We’re studying and learning, but we still have the death bit to go through—”

“And all those idiots out there, shouting about heaven and eternal bliss,” the young woman said. “Incidentally, Lydia, do you remember me now? I’m Mariah—over there—the old lady with the cookie.”