A flock of ducks had been flying across the bottom land, close above the treetops, and in one of the little ponds which dotted the flood plain a moose had stood knee-deep, putting his head down into the water to feed upon the lilies, the water cascading off his mighty antlers when he raised his head. Even from where he stood, Jason had imagined he could hear that sound of cascading water, although he knew it was too far to hear.

The two dogs that had gone with him had hurried on ahead and now were waiting on the patio, not for him although he would have liked to think so, but for their plates of food. Bowser, full of many years, had walked heavily and sedately beside him as they'd gone down across the land, while Rover, the foolish pup, had treed an early-foraging squirrel in the walnut grove and had flushed a covey of quail out of the corn shocks and pumpkins of an autumn field.

The door opened on the patio and Martha came out, carrying plates for the two dogs. She stooped and set them on the stones, while the dogs waited, respectfully and politely, with their tails swinging slowly and their ears pricked forward. Straightening, she came off the patio and down the slope to meet him. She gave him her morning kiss and linked her arm in his.

"While you were on your walk," she said, "I had a talk with Nancy."

He knitted his brow, trying to remember. "Nancy?" he asked.

"Why, of course," she said. "You know. She is Geoffrey's oldest child. It has been so long since I have talked with her."

He knitted his brow, trying to remember. "Nancy?" he asked.

"Out Polaris way," said Martha. "They moved just recently. They're on the nicest planet…"

Evening Star, crouched in the lodge, put the finishing touches to the talismanic doll.