The airplane flew up into the air and out through the open window. My Lord watched it, dazed.

What could have happened? They had been so certain about the Children. It was all planned—It meditated.

Evening. The boy sat at the table, staring absently at his geography book. He shifted unhappily, turning the pages. At last he closed the book. He slid from his chair and went to the closet. He was reaching into the closet for the bulging carton when a voice came drifting to him from the dresser-top.

“Later. You can play with them later. I must discuss something with you.”

The boy turned back to the table, his face listless and tired. He nodded, sinking down against the table, his head on his arms.

“You’re not asleep, are you?” My Lord said.

“No.”

“Then listen. Tomorrow when you leave school I want you to go to a certain address. It’s not far from the school. It’s a toy store. Perhaps you know it. Don’s Toyland.”

“I haven’t any money.”

“It doesn’t matter. This has all been arranged for long in advance. Go to Toyland and say to the man: ‘I was told to come for the package.’ Can you remember that? ‘I was told to come for the package.’ “

“What’s in the package?”

“Some tools, and some toys for you. To go along with me.” The metal figure rubbed its hands together. “Nice modern toys, two toy tanks and a machine gun. And some spare parts for—”

There were footsteps on the stairs outside.

“Don’t forget,” My Lord said nervously. “You’ll do it? This phase of the plan is extremely important.”

It wrung its hands together in anxiety.

The boy brushed the last strands of hair into place. He put his cap on and picked up his school books. Outside, the morning was gray and dismal. Rain fell, slowly, soundlessly.