Mitch’s eyes shifted promptly to the source of that miracle. Both amusement and curiosity caused his lips to curve in a smile. Gazing at the woman’s back, he realized this must be the Kay that Rhoda had mentioned. She was evidently acting out a story for the little boy.

“Crrreeeak, went the door,” she whispered dramatically. “Little Archibald’s heart was beating so hard he couldn’t think. Slowly, slowly, he peeked around the corner, and right there, right there in the center of the room, was a monster. A big, fat yellow monster with three eyes, and all of those eyes were crying…”

Silently, Mitch eased his way to a corner from which he could see the woman’s reflection in the mirror over the bureau. Peter was captivated, his eyes huge with curiosity and expectation.

“He wanted a cookie,” Kay said sadly. “That’s all he’d ever wanted in his whole monster’s life-one little cookie.”

“Did Archie give him one?” Peter demanded impatiently. “If it had been me, I’d have given him one.”

“Archibald was terrified out of his wits. This was a terrible-looking monster, yellow and hairy and fat. And he looked mean.”

Mitch’s smile grew broader. Kay was trying to describe her monster graphically, by bloating her cheeks and hunching her shoulders and crossing her eyes. Peter giggled.

With a total lack of self-consciousness, Kay mussed up her hair until it was going every which way-evidently trying to reproduce her monster’s hairstyle. She lurched toward the bed, squinting out of one eye and trying to talk out of the side of her mouth. Peter giggled again. “You’re silly, Kay,” he told her.

“Hey. Would you kindly try to get into this?” Kay told him severely. “This is a very scary story.”

“I’m scared, I’m scared,” Peter assured her. “It’s just that I’m so much braver than Archie. What happened about the cookie?”