Ginny was trying to make Mitch stop and look at the paper. "Look! Look! It's our letter!"

Mitch put down his razor and wiped the last of the lather off his face. "Okay, babe, what letter?"

"The letter from . . ." She stopped and looked up at him. "Oh, you know! You're just kidding! It's our baby!"

He scanned the elaborate document. "This is it? Just a deed for a kid? Like a building lot? No picture? No letter from the kid?"

She looked in the envelope again. "Nope. I guess that'll come later." She put the envelope against her chest and hugged it. "Our own baby! Oh, Mitch!"

Mitch pulled her to him. "I know, Hon! It's just that we waited so long and sent them so much money . . ."

"But now we have her! Oh, I know it's not what you wanted. But if we can't have a baby of our own . . . And they're so poor." She sniffled. "Remember that video the agency gave us?"

Mitch nodded gravely. "I know. If I could, I'd adopt them all."

Ginny wiggled around. "Maybe, someday we could have another one. Or more?"

"We'll see. So far it's been pretty expensive just making connections. But . . ." He sighed. "We'll see."

Mata shook the contents out of the envelope. "This is all, Father. But it's almost three hundred dollars. Those people from Arizona? They sent another hundred."

The old man nodded and sat back with a sigh. "They are so good! And I don't think they really have very much. He's been out of work."

Mata swept the money into a pile and folded it into the tiny purse. "Shall I put this with the rest?"

"No, no, my child. I must get some things at the city tomorrow. When you see Theo, will you ask him if I can ride along when he takes the milk in?"

"I will, Father! May I go now?"

"Yes." He touched her tousled hair with his gnarled hand. "Go with God, Mata." Then he grinned. "And not so fast!" But in vain. She was already running off down the dusty road.

Mitch had his hand on the door when it was yanked open. Ginny waved a photo under his nose. "See! We have pictures! Look!"

Mitch looked. The first shot was of a little dark-eyed girl sitting at a school desk and reading. She was wearing a shapeless wash dress and had on what looked like rude leather sandals. A floppy ribbon topped off her curly, tousled black hair.

Mitch looked over at Ginny. "Hey, she looks like your side of the family!"

Ginny showed him the next. "Look! She's starved!"

Mitch saw that the girl was quite thin and had the young-old look of the ever-hungry child . She was smiling and holding up a dirty rag doll.

There were more pictures: One of the girl standing on the steps of the school, looking back; another of her carrying a pail of water: a third of her sleeping, thumb in mouth, on a dirty, unpadded pallet. Mitch looked up at last. "Looks pretty grim. I think we'd best see about sending some food along with the money."

"Oh, can we do that? Look, it's an address in Lub . . ."

Mitch looked at the envelope. "That's Ljubljana. Used to be the capital of Slovenia." He put his arm around Ginny's waist. "Come on, let's see what we can spare for our little girl." He sniffled and wiped at his eye. "Those poor kids!" He stared at Ginny. "Hey, I don't even know her name!"

Ginny smiled and gave him a squeeze. "It's Mary Margaret -- something. At least she's Christian. I couldn't read the last name. But she's named for my grandmother! Isn't that great!"

Mitch gave her a quick peck and chuckled. "Sure is. I didn't know you had kin in Romania."

"Oh, you nut! You know what I mean!"

Mitch looked at the picture again. "Suppose she's a Gypsy?"

"Well . . ." She looked up. "Would that matter?"

"Nope. Just as long as she's ours!"

Mata and the others were waiting for Theo to come with the camera. Some of the patrons had been asking for newer pictures and Father had decided to take them all at one time. "That way we won't be asking poor Theo to keep making trips to the photo shop."

Little Hama asked, "When can we go home, Father?"

The old man pulled her close. "Soon, little one. We need more help from our rich friends in America. . ."

Hama squirmed away. "I wish we had never come here!"

"Hama! Are you forgetting how it was at home when we left?"

Hama hung her head. "I can hardly remember, Father. It was so long ago. . . ." She looked up at him, her eyes filling. "Are my mother and father really dead?"

"I'm afraid so, little one. It was a terrible time." He looked up. "Oh, here comes Theo! Come, let's get ready! He's a busy man!"

They stood patiently as Father arranged each picture. He brought out the tattered clothing and pinned it on them while Theo snapped them in different poses. He came over to where Father was pinning a limp, dirty bow on Felicia's hair. "Father, are you going to do the -- other thing, too?"

"Yes. Mata and Hama and Tonio. I'll get the stuff." He hurried into the shed and came out with the crutches. "Now, Mata, Tonio . . . Come here, Mata. Take the crutches."

It took a while until Father was satisfied with the pose. Mata leaned against the wall, her foot hidden behind her, the crutches tucked hard under her arms. "Please, Father! It's hard standing like this."

"Just a moment. Tonio?"

Tonio came forward. "Yes, Father?"

"Sit here, Tonio. Hold still."

In a moment Tonio's eyes were bandaged and he was smiling up at the camera. Father clapped his hands. "Fine! Theo?"

Then one more pose, Mata sitting at a table, her leg tucked out of sight, her unused sandal on the table in front of her. "Fine. Now pick up the shoe and stare at it, Mata. Fine." Theo snapped. "There! All right, children!" He flipped a coin to Mata. "Take everybody to the crossing and have a treat."

Theo put his camera in its case. "I'll have these in a week, Father. Soon enough?"

"Yes. Thank you, my son. It's a fine work you do here."

Theo knelt for a blessing and left.

Ginny stared at the picture in silent outrage. "Those poor kids! Imagine, a little girl like that . . ."

Mitch sighed. "I know. Ginny, we're going over there. I don't know what we can do, but we've just got to get those kids some medical help anyway."

Ginny nodded and wiped her eyes. "Maybe if we saw them . . . Oh, I hope nothing's happened to our Mary Margaret!"

"Well, she looks okay, but it's just a matter of time . . ."

"Think we can borrow something from your uncle?"

Mitch nodded. "He'll take a mortgage, I think. He's always been fond of the old place. Since Dad died, he's been after it. He'll jump at the chance, especially if he thinks we might have to default."

Ginny clapped her hand to her mouth in shock. "You mean he'd foreclose on his own nephew?"

"He put his sister out. Does that answer your question?"

"Then maybe . . ." She turned the pictures around in her hands. "We have to! She's just starting to open up with us. Her last letter . . ."

"Sure. Look, let's get dressed. I want to see Uncle Arthur before I lose my nerve."

Hama came running up excitedly. "Father! Come quick! We have visitors! The Americans!"

Father slipped out of the hatch and put down the torch. "Oh, my word!" He took off the helmet and reached for his cassock. "Can you delay them? I'm a mess."

Hama nodded and turned to go. "Yes, Father! I'll take them to . . . Eek!"

"What's the matter, child? Oh . . ." He stood up. "Oh, hello there. Do you speak English?"

Mitch was still gaping at the huge ship. "Wha -- what is this? Looks like a space ship . . ."

"A space ship? No, no. It's just part of our pageant." He hung his head. "I suppose we're not what you expected."

Mitch shook his head in disbelief. "You and the kids built that? For a pageant?"

"It's a big thing here. Traditionally it's a passion play, but the children want to have the Messiah ascend after the crucifixion in a space ship." He shook his head. "I have no idea why I agreed. And we have wasted your money."

Mitch walked over and touched the smooth skin of the ship. "Father, or whatever you are, this isn't something you and the kids built." He turned back to face the old man. "Look, I'm an engineer . . ."

Mata ran up. "Father, shall I call the others?" Then she looked up at Ginny and Mitch. "Oh, hello!"

Ginny stared. "Are you Mata?"

"Yes'm. I'm Mata."

Ginny looked down. "But, your leg . . ."

Mata shrugged. "I heal quick."

Mitch took the old man by his robe. "All right. Let's have it! What's going on here?"

Father shrugged. "Easier to show you. Want to see? Come on inside." Mitch let him go and Father went to the ladder. "Follow me. Be careful, Mrs. Mason."

Mitch and Ginny went up behind him and ducked in. Father flipped on a few light switches. "Now, isn't this a good model of a space ship?"

"I told you I'm an engineer," Mitch said. "So you can drop the 'model spaceship' scam." He looked around, open-mouthed. "Where'd this come from?"

Father smiled. "You would call it part of the Pleiades. But it's far beyond there. We have a different name . . ."

"So, why the orphan thing?" Mitch said. "With technology this advanced, you could have just taken . . ."

"Not really. Our ship was damaged. We needed money for repair. And we needed to eat. If we had stolen, we might have been caught."

Mitch scowled, "Well, you're caught now, anyway."

Father nodded sadly. "Quite so. At least let me show you why we needed to come here?"

"Well . . . Oh what the hell . . ."

"Follow me through here." Father opened another hatch. Mitch and Ginny waited until he turned on the light. They wasted precious seconds staring at the others; the others who had come to see about "their" children; the others on the hooks; the others partially used for food.

As they spun toward the closing door they could hear the liquid nitrogen dribbling in through the valves. They didn't recognize the sound. After a while at four hundred degrees below frost they got used to it.

If you read Lorin's gentle and polite letters, you'd never guess that you were in the grip of a master of horror fiction. I didn't guess, and I got a chill up my spine when I read this story. Hope you did, too--GM.