Bobby drew back a little on the bed.

“What’s the matter?” the soldier said sharply, turning its head and staring up.

“Nothing.”

“What is it?” The little figure peered at him. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

Bobby shifted uncomfortably.

“Afraid of me!” The soldier laughed. “I’m only a little metal man, only six inches high.” It laughed again and again. It ceased abruptly. “Listen. I’m going to live here with you for a while. I won’t hurt you; you can count on that. I’m a friend—a good friend.”

It peered up a little anxiously. “But I want you to do things for me. You won’t mind doing things, will you? Tell me: how many are there of them in your family?”

Bobby hesitated.

“Come, how many of them? Adults.”

“Three… Daddy, and Mother, and Foxie.”

“Foxie? Who is that?”

“My grandmother.”

“Three of them.” The figure nodded. “I see. Only three. But others come from time to time? Other Adults visit this house?”

Bobby nodded.

“Three. That’s not too many. Three are not so much of a problem. According to the factory—”

It broke off. “Good. Listen to me. I don’t want you to say anything to them about me. I’m your friend, your secret friend. They won’t be interested in hearing about me. I’m not going to hurt you, remember. You have nothing to fear. I’m going to live right here, with you.”

It watched the boy intently, lingering over the last words.

“I’m going to be a sort of private teacher. I’m going to teach you things, things to do, things to say. Just like a tutor should. Will you like that?”

Silence.

“Of course you’ll like it. We could even begin now. Perhaps you want to know the proper way to address me. Do you want to learn that?”

“Address you?” Bobby stared down.

“You are to call me…” The figure paused, hesitating. It drew itself together, proudly. “You are to call me—My Lord.”