here? "Whose nursery?"

"Ours." Richie wrinkled his face thoughtfully. "I think I better go
outside and play."

"_Our_ nursery?" Jonathan stared at his son. "Where is it?"

"I think I better go play," said Richie more firmly, sliding off the
chair.

"Richard! _Where_ is the nursery?"

The full lower lip began to tremble. "I can't tell you!" Richie
wailed. "I promised!"

Jonathan slammed his fist on the desk. "Answer me!" He knew he
shouldn't speak this way to Richie; he knew he was frightening the
boy. But the ideas racing through his mind drove him to find out what
this was all about. It might be nothing, but it also might be--"Answer
me, Richard!"

The child stifled a sob. "Here," he said weakly.

"_Here_? Where?"

"In my house," said Richie. "And Steve's house and Billy's and all
over." He rubbed his eyes, leaving a grimy smear.

"All right," soothed Jonathan. "It's all right now, son. Daddy didn't
mean to scare you. Daddy has to learn these things, that's all. Just
like learning in school."

The boy shook his head resentfully. "_You_ know," he accused. "You
just forgot."

"What did I forget, Richie?"

"You forgot all about Allavarg. He told me! It was a different
Allavarg when you were little, but it was almost the same. You used to
play with _your_ Allavarg when you were little like me!"

Jonathan took a deep breath. "Where did Allavarg come from, Richie?"

But Richie shook his head stubbornly, lips pressed tight. "I
promised!"

"Richie, a promise like that isn't a good one," pleaded Jonathan.
"Allavarg wouldn't want you to disobey your father and mother, would
he?"

The child sat and stared at him.

This was a very disturbing thought and Jonathan could see Richie did
not know how to deal with it.

He pressed his momentary advantage. "Allavarg takes care of little
boys and girls, doesn't he? He plays with them and he looks after
them, I'll bet."

Richie nodded uncertainly.

"And," continued Jonathan, smiling what he hoped was a winning,
comradely smile at his son, "I'll bet that Allavarg came from some
place far, far away, didn't he?"

"Yes," said Richie softly.

"And it's his job to be here and look after the--the nursery?"
Jonathan bit his lip. Nursery? Earth? Carooms--Martians? His head
began to ache. "Son, you've got to help me understand. Do you--do you
murv me?"

* * * * *

Richie shook his head. "No. But I _will_ after--"

"After what?"