It showed a small pinkish cone, with a little tuft of hair on top.

The nomes had never seen a limpet. If they had, they'd have known that this drawing looked exactly like one. Except for the hair.

'Very nice,' said Masklin, uncertainly. 'What is it?' 'Urn. It was my idea of what an Outsider would look like, you see,' said Dorcas.

'What, with pointy heads?' 'The Rain, you see. In the old legends of the time before the Store. Rain. Water dropping out of the sky all the time. It'd need to run off. And the sloping sides are so the Wind won't keep knocking it over. I only had the old stories to go on, you see.' 'It hasn't even got any eyes!' Dorcas pointed. 'Yes, it has. Tiny ones. Tucked in under the hair so they won't get blinded by the Sun. That's a big bright light in the sky,' Dorcas added helpfully.

'We've seen it,' said Masklin.

'What's he sayin'?' said Torrit.

'He's saying you ought to of looked like that,' said Granny Morkie sarcastically.

'My head ain't that sharp!' 'You're right there, you,' said Granny. 'I think you've got it a bit wrong,' said Masklin slowly. 'It's not like that at all. Hasn't anyone been to look?' 'I saw the big door open once,' said Dorcas. 'The one down in the garage,! mean. But there was just a blinding white light outside.' 'I expect it would seem like it, if you spend all your time in this gloom,' said Masklin.

Dorcas pulled up an empty cotton reel. 'You must tell me about it,' he said. 'Everything you can remember about the Outside.' In Torrit's lap, the Thing began to flash another green light.

One of the young nomes brought some food after a while. And they talked, and argued, and often contradicted one another, while Dorcas listened, and asked questions.

He was, he told them, an inventor.