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In this way they came to the edge of the chasm. It was about a thousand feet long and perhaps two hundred wide. They dismounted from their horses and came to the edge, and looked down into it. A strong heat smote up into their faces, mixed with a smell which was quite unlike any they had ever smelled. It was rich, sharp, exciting, and made you sneeze. The depth of the chasm was so bright that at first it dazzled their eyes and they could see nothing. When they got used to it they thought they could make out a river of fire, and, on the banks of that river, what seemed to be fields and groves of an unbearable, hot brilliance - though they were dim compared with the river. There were blues, reds, greens, and whites all jumbled together: a very good stained-glass window with the tropical sun staring straight through it at midday might have something the same effect. Down the rugged sides of the chasm, looking black like flies against all that fiery light, hundreds of Earthmen were climbing. "Your honours," said Golg (and when they turned to look at him they could see nothing but blackness for a few minutes, their eyes were so dazzled). "Your honours, why don't you come down to Bism? You'd be happier there than in that cold, unprotected, naked country out on top. Or at least come down for a short visit." Jill took it for granted that none of the others would listen to such an idea for a moment. To her horror she heard the Prince saying: "Truly, friend Golg, I have half a mind to come down with you. For this is a marvellous adventure, and it may be no mortal man has ever looked into Bism before or will ever have the chance again. And I know not how, as the years pass, I shall bear to remember that it was once in my power to have probed the uttermost pit of Earth and that I forbore. But could a man live there? You do not swim in the fire-river itself?" "Oh no, your Honour. Not we. It's only salamanders live in the fire itself." "What kind of beast is your salamander?" asked the Prince. "It is hard to tell their kind, your Honour," said Golg. "For they are too white-hot to look at. But they are most like small dragons. They speak to us out of the fire. They are wonderfully clever with their tongues: very witty and eloquent." Jill glanced hastily at Eustace. She had felt sure that he would like the idea of sliding down that chasm even less than she did. Her heart sank as she saw that his face was quite changed. He looked much more like the Prince than like the old Scrubb at Experiment House. For all his adventures, and the days when he had sailed with King Caspian, were coming back to him. "Your Highness," he said. "If my old friend Reepicheep the Mouse were here, he would say we could not now refuse the adventures of Bism without a great impeachment to our honour." "Down there," said Golg, "I could show you real gold, real silver, real diamonds." "Bosh!" said Jill rudely. "As if we didn't know that we're below the deepest mines even here." "Yes," said Golg. "I have heard of those little scratches in the crust that you Topdwellers call mines. But that's where you get dead gold, dead silver, dead gems. Down in Bism we have them alive and growing. There I'll pick you bunches of rubies that you can eat and squeeze you a cup full of diamond-juice. You won't care much about fingering the cold, dead treasures of your shallow mines after you have tasted the live ones of Bism." "My father went to the world's end," said Rilian thoughtfully. "It would be a marvellous thing if his son went to the bottom of the world."

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Secondly," said Caspian, "I want to know why you have permitted this abominable and unnatural traffic in slaves to grow up here, contrary to the ancient custom and usage of our dominions." "Necessary, unavoidable," said his Sufficiency. "An essential part of the economic development of the islands, I assure you. Our present burst of prosperity depends on it." "What need have you of slaves?" "For export, your Majesty. Sell 'em to Calormen mostly; and we have other markets. We are a great centre of the trade." "In other words," said Caspian, "you don't need them. Tell me what purpose they serve except to put money into the pockets of such as Pug?" "Your Majesty's tender years," said Gumpas, with what was meant to be a fatherly smile, "hardly make it possible that you should understand the economic problem involved. I have statistics, I have graphs, I have-" "Tender as my years be," said Caspian, "I believe I understand the slave trade from within quite as well as your Sufficiency. And I do not see that it brings into the islands meat or bread or beer or wine or timber or cabbages or books or instruments of music or horses or armour or anything else worth having. But whether it does or not, it must be stopped." "But that would be putting the clock back," gasped the governor. "Have you no idea of progress, of development?" "I have seen them both in an egg," said Caspian. "We call it `Going Bad' in Narnia. This trade must stop." "I can take no responsibility for any such measure," said Gumpas. "Very well, then," answered Caspian, "we relieve you of your office. My Lord Bern, come here." And before Gumpas quite realized what was happening, Bern was kneeling with his hands between the King's hands and taking the oath to govern the Lone Islands in accordance with the old customs, rights, usages and laws of Narnia. And Caspian said, "I think we have had enough of governors," and made Bern a Duke, the Duke of the Lone Islands. "As for you, my Lord," he said to Gumpas, "I forgive you your debt for the tribute. But before noon tomorrow you and yours must be out of the castle, which is now the Duke's residence." "Look here, this is all very well," said one of Gumpas's secretaries, "but suppose all you gentlemen stop playacting and we do a little business. The question before us really is-" "The question is," said the Duke, "whether you and the rest of the rabble will leave without a flogging or with one. You may choose which you prefer." When all this had been pleasantly settled, Caspian ordered horses, of which there were a few in the castle, though very ill-groomed and he, with Bern and Drinian and a few others, rode out into the town and made for the slave market. It was a long low building near the harbour and the scene which they found going on inside was very much like any other auction; that is to say, there was a great crowd and Pug, on a platform, was roaring out in a raucous voice: "Now, gentlemen, lot twenty-three. Fine Terebinthian agricultural labourer, suitable for the mines or the galleys. Under twenty-five years of age. Not a bad tooth in his head. Good, brawny fellow. Take off his shirt, Tacks, and let the gentlemen see. There's muscle for you! Look at the chest on him. Ten crescents from the gentleman in the corner. You must be joking, sir. Fifteen! Eighteen! Eighteen is bidden for lot twenty-three. Any advance on eighteen? Twenty-one. Thank you, sir. Twenty-one is bidden-" But Pug stopped and gaped when he saw the mail-clad figures who had clanked up to the platform. "On your knees, every man of you, to the King of Narnia," said the Duke. Everyone heard the horses jingling and stamping outside and many had heard some rumour of the landing and the events at the castle. Most obeyed. Those who did not were pulled down by their neighbours. Some cheered. "Your life is forfeit, Pug, for laying hands on our royal person yesterday," said Caspian. "But your ignorance is pardoned. The slave trade was forbidden in all our dominions quarter of an hour ago. I declare every slave in this market free." He held up his hand to check the cheering of the slaves and went on, "Where are my friends?" "That dear little gel and the nice young gentleman?" said Pug with an ingratiating smile. "Why, they were snapped up at once-" "We're here, we're here, Caspian," cried Lucy and Edmund together and, "At your service, Sire," piped Reepicheep from another corner. They had all been sold but the men who had bought them were staying to bid for other slaves and so they had not yet been taken away. The crowd parted to let the three of them out and there was great handclasping and greeting between them and Caspian. Two merchants of Calormen at once approached. The Calormen have dark faces and long beards. They wear flowing robes and orange-coloured turbans, and they are a wise, wealthy, courteous, cruel and ancient people. They bowed most politely to Caspian and paid him long compliments, all about the fountains of prosperity irrigating the gardens of prudence and virtue - and things like that - but of course what they wanted was the money they had paid. "That is only fair, sirs," said Caspian. "Every man who has bought a slave today must have his money back. Pug, bring out your takings to the last minim." (A minim is the fortieth part of a crescent.) "Does your good Majesty mean to beggar me?" whined Pug. "You have lived on broken hearts all your life," said Caspian, "and if you are beggared, it is better to be a beggar than a slave. But where is my other friend?" "Oh him?" said Pug. "Oh take him and welcome. Glad to have him off my hands. I've never seen such a drug in the market in all my born days. Priced him at five crescents in the end and even so nobody'd have him. Threw him in free with other lots and still no one would have him. Wouldn't touch him. Wouldn't look at him. 'Packs, bring out Sulky." Thus Eustace was produced, and sulky he certainly looked; for though no one would want to be sold as a slave, it is perhaps even more galling to be a sort of utility slave whom no one will buy. He walked up to Caspian and said, "I see. As usual. Been enjoying yourself somewhere while the rest of us were prisoners. I suppose you haven't even found out about the British Consul. Of course not."

Caspian now suggested that they might like to be shown over the ship before supper, but Lucy's conscience smote her and she said, "I think I really must go and see Eustace. Seasickness is horrid, you know. If I had my old cordial with me I could cure him." "But you have," said Caspian. "I'd quite forgotten about it. As you left it behind I thought it might be regarded as one of the royal treasures and so I brought it - if you think it ought to be wasted on a thing like seasickness." "It'll only take a drop," said Lucy. Caspian opened one of the lockers beneath the bench and brought out the beautiful little diamond flask which Lucy remembered so well. "Take back your own, Queen," he said. They then left the cabin and went out into the sunshine. In the deck there were two large, long hatches, fore and aft of the mast, and both open, as they always were in fair weather, to let light and air into the belly of the ship. Caspian led them down a ladder into the after hatch. Here they found themselves in a place where benches for rowing ran from side to side and the light came in through the oarholes and danced on the roof. Of course Caspian's ship was not that horrible thing, a galley rowed by slaves. Oars were used only when wind failed or for getting in and out of harbour and everyone (except Reepicheep whose legs were too short) had often taken a turn. At each side of the ship the space under the benches was left clear for the rowers' feet, but all down the centre there was a kind of pit which went down to the very keel and this was filled with all kinds of things - sacks of flour, casks of water and beer, barrels of pork, jars of honey, skin bottles of wine, apples, nuts, cheeses, biscuits, turnips, sides of bacon. From the roof - that is, from the under side of the deck - hung hams and strings of onions, and also the men of the watch offduty in their hammocks. Caspian led them aft, stepping from bench to bench; at least, it was stepping for him, and something between a step and a jump for Lucy, and a real long jump for Reepicheep. In this way they came to a partition with a door in it. Caspian opened the door and led them into a cabin which filled the stern underneath the deck cabins in the poop. It was of course not so nice. It was very low and the sides sloped together as they went down so that there was hardly any floor; and though it had windows of thick glass, they were not made to open because they were under water. In fact at this very moment, as the ship pitched they were alternately golden with sunlight and dim green with the sea. "You and I must lodge here, Edmund," said Caspian. "We'll leave your kinsman the bunk and sling hammocks for ourselves." "I beseech your Majesty-" said Drinian. "No, no shipmate," said Caspian, "we have argued all that out already. You and Rhince" (Rhince was the mate) "are sailing the ship and will have cares and labours many a night when we are singing catches or telling stories, so you and he must have the port cabin above. King Edmund and I can lie very snug here below. But how is the stranger?" Eustace, very green in the face, scowled and asked whether there was any sign of the storm getting less. But Caspian said, "What storm?" and Drinian burst out laughing. "Storm, young master!" he roared. "This is as fair weather as a man could ask for." "Who's that?" said Eustace irritably. "Send him away. His voice goes through my head." "I've brought you something that will make you feel better, Eustace," said Lucy. "Oh, go away and leave me alone," growled Eustace. But he took a drop from her flask, and though he said it was beastly stuff (the smell in the cabin when she opened it was delicious) it is certain that his face came the right colour a few moments after he had swallowed it, and he must have felt better because, instead of wailing about the storm and his head, he began demanding to be put ashore and said that at the first port he would "lodge a disposition" against them all with the British Consul. But when Reepicheep asked what a disposition was and how you lodged it (Reepicheep thought it was some new way of arranging a single combat) Eustace could only reply, "Fancy not knowing that." In the end they succeeded in convincing Eustace that they were already sailing as fast as they could towards the nearest land they knew, and that they had no more power of sending him back to Cambridge - which was where Uncle Harold lived - than of sending him to the moon. After that he sulkily agreed to put on the fresh clothes which had been put out for him and come on deck. Caspian now showed them over the ship, though indeed they had seen most it already. They went up on the forecastle and saw the look-out man standing on a little shelf inside the gilded dragon's neck and peering through its open mouth. Inside the forecastle was the galley (or ship's kitchen) and quarters for such people as the boatswain, the carpenter, the cook and the master-archer. If you think it odd to have the galley in the bows and imagine the smoke from its chimney streaming back over the ship, that is because you are thinking of steamships where there is always a headwind. On a sailing ship the wind is coming from behind, and anything smelly is put as far forward as possible. They were taken up to the fighting top, and at first it was rather alarming to rock to and fro there and see the deck looking small and far away beneath. You realized that if you fell there was no particular reason why you should fall on board rather than in the sea. Then they were taken to the poop, where Rhince was on duty with another man at the great tiller, and behind that the dragon's tail rose up, covered with gilding, and round inside it ran a little bench. The name of the ship was Dawn Treader. She was only a little bit of a thing compared with one of our I ships, or even with the cogs, dromonds, carracks and galleons which Narnia had owned when Lucy and Edmund had reigned there under Peter as the High King, for nearly all navigation had died out in the reigns of Caspian's ancestors. When his uncle, Miraz the usurper, had sent the seven lords to sea, they had had to buy a Galmian ship and man it with hired Galmian sailors. But now Caspian had begun to teach the Narnians to be sea-faring folk once more, and the Dawn Treader was the finest ship he had built yet. She was so small that, forward of the mast, there was hardly any deck room between the central hatch and the ship's boat on one side and the hen-coop (Lucy fed the hens) on the other. But she was a beauty of her kind, a "lady" as sailors say, her lines perfect, her colours pure, and every spar and rope and pin lovingly made. Eustace of course would be pleased with nothing, and kept on boasting about liners and motor-boats and aeroplanes and submarines ("As if he knew anything about them," muttered Edmund), but the other two were delighted with the Dawn Treader, and when they returned aft to the cabin and supper, and saw the whole western sky lit up with an immense crimson sunset, and felt the quiver of the ship, and tasted the salt on their lips, and thought of unknown lands on the Eastern rim of the world, Lucy felt that she was almost too happy to speak.

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Lucy thanked her stars that she had worked hard at her swimming last summer term. It is true that she would have got on much better if she had used a slower stroke, and also that the water felt a great deal colder than it had looked while it was only a picture. Still, she kept her head and kicked her shoes off, as everyone ought to do who falls into deep water in their clothes. She even kept her mouth shut and her eyes open. They were still quite near the ship; she saw its green side towering high above them, and people looking at her from the deck. Then, as one might have expected, Eustace clutched at her in a panic and down they both went. When they came up again she saw a white figure diving off the ship's side. Edmund was close beside her now, treading water, and had caught the arms of the howling Eustace. Then someone else, whose face was vaguely familiar, slipped an arm under her from the other side. There was a lot of shouting going on from the ship, heads crowding together above the bulwarks, ropes being thrown. Edmund and the stranger were fastening ropes round her. After that followed what seemed a very long delay during which her face got blue and her teeth began chattering. In reality the delay was not very long; they were waiting till the moment when she could be got on board the ship without being dashed against its side. Even with all their best endeavours she had a bruised knee when she finally stood, dripping and shivering, on the deck. After her Edmund was heaved up, and then the miserable Eustace. Last of all came the stranger - a golden-headed boy some years older than herself. "Ca - Ca - Caspian!" gasped Lucy as soon as she had breath enough. For Caspian it was; Caspian, the boy king of Narnia whom they had helped to set on the throne during their last visit. Immediately Edmund recognized him too. All three shook hands and clapped one another on the back with great delight. "But who is your friend?" said Caspian almost at once, turning to Eustace with his cheerful smile. But Eustace was crying much harder than any boy of his age has a right to cry when nothing worse than a wetting has happened to him, and would only yell out, "Let me go. Let me go back. I don't like it." "Let you go?" said Caspian. "But where?" Eustace rushed to the ship's side, as if he expected to see the picture frame hanging above the sea, and perhaps a glimpse of Lucy's bedroom. What he saw was blue waves flecked with foam, and paler blue sky, both spreading without a break to the horizon. Perhaps we can hardly blame him if his heart sank. He was promptly sick. "Hey! Rynelf," said Caspian to one of the sailors. "Bring spiced wine for their Majesties. You'll need something to warm you after that dip." He called Edmund and Lucy their Majesties because they and Peter and Susan had all been Kings and Queens of Narnia long before his time. Narnian time flows differently from ours. If you spent a hundred years in Narnia, you would still come back to our world at the very same hour of the very same day on which you left. And then, if you went back to Narnia after spending a week here, you might find that a thousand Narnian years had passed, or only a day, or no time at all. You never know till you get there. Consequently, when the Pevensie children had returned to Narnia last time for their second visit, it was (for the Narnians) as if King Arthur came back to Britain, as some people say he will. And I say the sooner the better. Rynelf returned with the spiced wine steaming in a flagon and four silver cups. It was just what one wanted, and as Lucy and Edmund sipped it they could feel the warmth going right down to their toes. But Eustace made faces and spluttered and spat it out and was sick again and began to cry again and asked if they hadn't any Plumptree's Vitaminized Nerve Food and could it be made with distilled water and anyway he insisted on being put ashore at the next station. "This is a merry shipmate you've brought us, Brother," whispered Caspian to Edmund with a chuckle; but before he could say anything more Eustace burst out again. "Oh! Ugh! What on earth's that! Take it away, the horrid thing." . He really had some excuse this time for feeling a little surprised. Something very curious indeed had come out of the cabin in the poop and was slowly approaching them. You might call it - and indeed it was - a Mouse. But then it was a Mouse on its hind legs and stood about two feet high. A thin band of gold passed round its head under one ear and over the other and in this was stuck a long crimson feather. (As the Mouse's fur was very dark, almost black, the effect was bold and striking.) Its left paw rested on the hilt of a sword very nearly as long as its tail. Its balance, as it paced gravely along the swaying deck, was perfect, and its manners courtly. Lucy and Edmund recognized it at once Reepicheep, the most valiant of all the Talking Beasts of Narnia, and the Chief Mouse. It had won undying glory in the second Battle of Beruna. Lucy longed, as she had always done, to take Reepicheep up in her arms and cuddle him. But this, as she well knew, was a pleasure she could never have: it would have offended him deeply. Instead, she went down on one knee to talk to him. Reepicheep put forward his left leg, drew back his right, bowed, kissed her hand, straightened himself, twirled his whiskers, and said in his shrill, piping voice: "My humble duty to your Majesty. And to King Edmund, too." (Here he bowed again.) "Nothing except your Majesties' presence was lacking to this glorious venture." "Ugh, take it away," wailed Eustace. "I hate mice. And I never could bear performing animals. They're silly and vulgar and-and sentimental." "Am I to understand," said Reepicheep to Lucy after a long stare at Eustace, "that this singularly discourteous person is under your Majesty's protection? Because, if not-" At this moment Lucy and Edmund both sneezed. "What a fool I am to keep you all standing here in your wet things," said Caspian. "Come on below and get changed. I'll give you my cabin of course, Lucy, but I'm afraid we have no women's clothes on board. You'll have to make do with some of mine. Lead the way, Reepicheep, like a good fellow." "To the convenience of a lady," said Reepicheep, "even a question of honour must give way - at least for the moment -" and here he looked very hard at Eustace. But Caspian hustled them on and in a few minutes Lucy found herself passing through the door into the stern cabin. She fell in love with it at once - the three square windows that looked out on the blue, swirling water astern, the low cushioned benches round three sides of the table, the swinging silver lamp overhead (Dwarfs' work, she knew at once by its exquisite delicacy) and the flat gold image of Aslan the Lion on the forward wall above the door. All this she took in in a flash, for Caspian immediately opened a door on the starboard side, and said, "This'll be your room, Lucy. I'll just get some dry things for myself-" he was rummaging in one of the lockers while he spoke - "and then leave you to change. If you'll fling your wet things outside the door I'll get them taken to the galley to be dried." Lucy found herself as much at home as if she had been in Caspian's cabin for weeks, and the motion of the ship did not worry her, for in the old days when she had been a queen in Narnia she had done a good deal of voyaging. The cabin was very tiny but bright with painted panels (all birds and beasts and crimson dragons and vines) and spotlessly clean. Caspian's clothes were too big for her, but she could manage. His shoes, sandals and sea-boots were hopelessly big but she did not mind going barefoot on board ship. When she had finished dressing she looked out of her window at the water rushing past and took a long deep breath. She felt quite sure they were in for a lovely time. AH, there you are, Lucy," said Caspian. "We were just waiting for you. This is my captain, the Lord Drinian." A dark-haired man went down on one knee and kissed her hand. The only others present were Reepicheep and Edmund. "Where is Eustace?" asked Lucy. "In bed," said Edmund, "and I don't think we can do anything for him. It only makes him worse if you try to be nice to him." "Meanwhile," said Caspian, "we want to talk." "By Jove, we do," said Edmund. "And first, about time. It's a year ago by our time since we left you just before your coronation. How long has it been in Narnia?" "Exactly three years," said Caspian. "All going well?" asked Edmund. "You don't suppose I'd have left my kingdom and put to sea unless all was well," answered the King. "It couldn't be better. There's no trouble at all now between Telmarines, Dwarfs, Talking Beasts, Fauns and the rest. And we gave those troublesome giants on the frontier such a good beating last summer that they pay us tribute now. And I had an excellent person to leave as Regent while I'm away Trumpkin, the Dwarf. You remember him?" "Dear Trumpkin," said Lucy, "of course I do. You couldn't have made a better choice." "Loyal as a badger, Ma'am, and valiant as - as a Mouse," said Drinian. He had been going to say "as a lion" but had noticed Reepicheep's eyes fixed on him. "And where are we heading for?" asked Edmund. "Well," said Caspian, "that's rather a long story. Perhaps you remember that when I was a child my usurping uncle Miraz got rid of seven friends of my father's (who might have taken my part) by sending them off to explore the unknown , Eastern Seas beyond the Lone Islands." "Yes," said Lucy, "and none of them ever came back." "Right. Well, on, my coronation day, with Aslan's approval, I swore an oath that, if once I established peace in Narnia, I would sail east myself for a year and a day to find my father's friends or to learn of their deaths and avenge them if I could. These were their names - the Lord Revilian, the Lord Bern, the Lord Argoz, the Lord Mavramorn, the Lord Octesian, the Lord Restimar, and - oh, that other one who's so hard to remember." "The Lord Rhoop, Sire," said Drinian. "Rhoop, Rhoop, of course," said Caspian. "That is my main intention. But Reepicheep here has an even higher hope." Everyone's eyes turned to the Mouse. "As high as my spirit," it said. "Though perhaps as small as my stature. Why should we not come to the very eastern end of the world? And what might we find there? I expect to find Aslan's own country. It is always from the east, across the sea, that the great Lion comes to us." "I say, that is an idea," said Edmund in an awed voice. "But do you think," said Lucy, "Aslan's country would be that sort of country - I mean, the sort you could ever sail to?" "I do not know, Madam," said Reepicheep. "But there is this. When I was in my cradle, a wood woman, a Dryad, spoke this verse over me: "Where sky and water meet, Where the waves grow sweet, Doubt not, Reepicheep, To find all you seek, There is the utter East. "I do not know what it means. But the spell of it has been on me all my life." After a short silence Lucy asked, "And where are we now, Caspian?" "The Captain can tell you better than I," said Caspian, so Drinian got out his chart and spread it on the table. "That's our position," he said, laying his finger on it. "Or was at noon today. We had a fair wind from Cair Paravel and stood a little north for Galma, which we made on the next day. We were in port for a week, for the Duke of Galma made a great tournament for His Majesty and there he unhorsed many knights-" "And got a few nasty falls myself, Drinian. Some of the bruises are there still," put in Caspian. "- And unhorsed many knights," repeated Drinian with a grin. "We thought the Duke would have been pleased if the King's Majesty would have married his daughter, but nothing came of that-" "Squints, and has freckles," said Caspian. "Oh, poor girl," said Lucy. "And we sailed from Galma," continued Drinian, "and ran into a calm for the best part of two days and had to row, and then had wind again and did not make Terebinthia till the fourth day from Galma. And there their King sent out a warning not to land for there was sickness in Terebinthia, but we doubled the cape and put in at a little creek far from the city and watered. Then we had to lie off for three days before we got a south-east wind and stood out for Seven Isles. The third day out a pirate (Terebinthian by her rig) overhauled us, but when she saw us well armed she stood off after some shooting of arrows on either part -" "And we ought to have given her chase and boarded her and hanged every mother's son of them," said Reepicheep. "- And in five days more we were insight of Muil, which, as you know, is the westernmost of the Seven Isles. Then we rowed through the straits and came about sundown into Redhaven on the isle of Brenn, where we were very lovingly feasted and had victuals and water at will. We left Redhaven six days ago and have made marvellously good speed, so that I hope to see the Lone Islands the day after tomorrow. The sum is, we are now nearly thirty days at sea and have sailed more than four hundred leagues from Narnia." "And after the Lone Islands?" said Lucy. "No one knows, your Majesty," answered Drinian. "Unless the Lone Islanders themselves can tell us." "They couldn't in our days," said Edmund.

The main door was now shut, concealing the curtain between which they had first entered. The Knight was seated in a curious silver chair, to which he was bound by his ankles, his knees, his elbows, his wrists, and his waist. There was sweat on his forehead and his face was filled with anguish. "Come in, friends," he said, glancing quickly up. "The fit is not yet upon me. Make no noise, for I told that prying chamberlain that you were in bed. Now . . . I can feel it coming. Quick! Listen while I am master of myself. When the fit is upon me, it well may be that I shall beg and implore you, with entreaties and threatenings, to loosen my bonds. They say I do. I shall call upon you by all that is most dear and most dreadful. But do not listen to me. Harden your hearts and stop your ears. For while I am bound you are safe. But if once I were up and out of this chair, then first would come my fury, and after that" - he shuddered - "the change into a loathsome serpent." "There's no fear of our loosing you," said Puddleglum. "We've no wish to meet wild men; or serpents either." "I should think not," said Scrubb and Jill together. "All the same," added Puddleglum in a whisper. "Don't let's be too sure. Let's be on our guard. We've muffed everything else, you know. He'll be cunning, I shouldn't wonder, once he gets started. Can we trust one another? Do we all promise that whatever he says we don't touch those cords? Whatever he says, mind you?" "Rather!" said Scrubb. "There's nothing in the world he can say or do that'll make me change my mind," said Jill. "Hush! Something's happening," said Puddleglum. The Knight was moaning. His face was as pale as putty, and he writhed in his bonds. And whether because she was sorry for him, or for some other reason, Jill thought that he looked a nicer sort of man than he had looked before. "Ah," he groaned. "Enchantments, enchantments . . . the heavy, tangled, cold, clammy web of evil magic. Buried alive. Dragged down under the earth, down into the sooty blackness . . . how many years is it? . . . Have I lived ten years, or a thousand years, in the pit? Maggotmen all around me. Oh, have mercy. Let me out, let me go back. Let me feel the wind and see the sky . . . There used to be a little pool. When you looked down into it you could see all the trees growing upside-down in the water, all green, and below them, deep, very deep, the blue sky." He had been speaking in a low voice; now he looked up, fixed his eyes upon them, and said loud and clear: "Quick! I am sane now. Every night I am sane. If only I could get out of this enchanted chair, it would last. I should be a man again. But every night they bind me, and so every night my chance is gone. But you are not enemies. I am not your prisoner. Quick! Cut these cords." "Stand fast! Steady," said Puddleglum to the two children. "I beseech you to hear me," said the Knight, forcing himself to speak calmly. "Have they told you that if I am released from this chair I shall kill you and become a serpent? I see by your faces that they have. It is a lie. It is at this hour that I am in my right mind: it is all the rest of the day that I am enchanted. You are not Earthmen nor witches. Why should you be on their side? Of your courtesy, cut my bonds." "Steady! Steady! Steady!" said the three travellers to one another. "Oh, you have hearts of stone," said the Knight. "Believe me, you look upon a wretch who has suffered almost more than any mortal can bear. What wrong have I ever done you, that you should side with my enemies to keep me in such miseries? And the minutes are slipping past. Now you can save me; when this hour has passed, I shall be witless again - the toy and lap-dog, nay, more likely the pawn and tool, of the most devilish sorceress that ever planned the woe of men. And this night, of all nights, when she is away! You take from me a chance that may never come again." "This is dreadful. I do wish we'd stayed away till it was over," said Jill. "Steady!" said Puddleglum. The prisoner's voice was now rising into a shriek. "Let me go, I say. Give me my sword. My sword! Once I am free I shall take such revenge on Earthmen that Underland will talk of it for a thousand years!" "Now the frenzy is beginning," said Scrubb. "I hope those knots are all right." "Yes," said Puddleglum. "He'd have twice his natural strength if he got free now. And I'm not clever with my sword. He'd get us both, I shouldn't wonder; and then Pole on her own would be left to tackle the snake." The prisoner was now so straining at his bonds that they cut into his wrists and ankles. "Beware," he said. "Beware. One night I did break them. But the witch was there that time. You will not have her to help you tonight. Free me now, and I am your friend. I'm your mortal enemy else." "Cunning, isn't he?" said Puddleglum. "Once and for all," said the prisoner, "I adjure you to set me free. By all fears and all loves, by the bright skies of Overland, by the great Lion, by Aslan himself, I charge you -" "Oh!" cried the three travellers as though they had been hurt. "It's the sign," said Puddleglum. "It was the words of the sign," said Scrubb more cautiously. "Oh, what are we to do?" said Jill. It was a dreadful question. What had been the use of promising one another that they would not on any account set the Knight free, if they were now to do so the first time he happened to call upon a name they really cared about? On the other hand, what had been the use of learning the signs if they weren't going to obey them? Yet could Aslan have really meant them to unbind anyone even a lunatic - who asked it in his name? Could it be a mere accident? Or how if the Queen of the Underworld knew all about the signs and had made the Knight learn this name simply in order to entrap them? But then, supposing this was the real sign? . . . They had muffed three already; they daren't muff the fourth. "Oh, if only we knew!" said Jill. "I think we do know," said Puddleglum. "Do you mean you think everything will come right if we do untie him?" said Scrubb. "I don't know about that," said Puddleglum. "You see, Aslan didn't tell Pole what would happen. He only told her what to do. That fellow will be the death of us once he's up, I shouldn't wonder. But that doesn't let us off following the sign." They all stood looking at one another with bright eyes. It was a sickening moment. "All right!" said Jill suddenly. "Let's get it over. Good-bye, everyone ...!" They all shook hands. The Knight was screaming by now; there was foam on his cheeks. "Come on, Scrubb," said Puddleglum. He and Scrubb drew their swords and went over to the captive. "In the name of Aslan," they said and began methodically cutting the cords. The instant the prisoner was free, he crossed the room in a single bound, seized his own sword (which had been taken from him and laid on the table), and drew it. "You first!" he cried and fell upon the silver chair. That must have been a good sword. The silver gave way before its edge like string, and in a moment a few twisted fragments, shining on the floor, were all that was left. But as the chair broke, there came from it a bright flash, a sound like small thunder, and (for one moment) a loathsome smell. "Lie there, vile engine of sorcery," he said, "lest your mistress should ever use you for another victim." Then he turned and surveyed his rescuers; and the something wrong, whatever it was, had vanished from his face. "What?" he cried, turning to Puddleglum. "Do I see before me a Marsh-wiggle - a real, live, honest, Narnian Marsh-wiggle?" "Oh, so you have heard of Narnia after all?" said Jill. "Had I forgotten it when I was under the spell?" asked the Knight. "Well, that and all other bedevilments are now over. You may well believe that I know Narnia, for I am Rilian, Prince of Narnia, and Caspian the great King is my father." "Your Royal Highness," said Puddleglum, sinking on one knee (and the children did the same), "we have come hither for no other end than to seek you." "And who are you, my other deliverers?" said the Prince to Scrubb and Jill. "We were sent by Aslan himself from beyond the world's end to seek your Highness," said Scrubb. "I am Eustace who sailed with him to the island of Ramandu." "I owe all three of you a greater debt than I can ever pay," said Prince Rilian. "But my father? Is he yet alive?" "He sailed east again before we left Narnia, my lord," said Puddleglum. "But your Highness must consider that the King is very old. It is ten to one his Majesty must die on the voyage."

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And before Puddleglum could stop her, Jill blurted out, "Please we are trying to find Prince Rilian of Narnia." And then she realized what a frightful risk she had taken; these people might be enemies. But the Knight showed no interest. "Rilian? Narnia?" he said carelessly. "Narnia? What land is that? I have never heard the name. It must be a thousand leagues from those parts of the Overworld that I know. But it was a strange fantasy that brought you seeking this - how do you call him? - Billian? Trillian? in my Lady's realm. Indeed, to my certain knowledge, there is no such man here." He laughed very loudly at this, and Jill thought to herself, "I wonder is that what's wrong with his face? Is he a bit silly?" "We had been told to look for a message on the stones of the City Ruinous," said Scrubb. "And we saw the words UNDER ME." The Knight laughed even more heartily than before. "You were the more deceived," he said. "Those words meant nothing to your purpose. Had you but asked my Lady, she could have given you better counsel. For those words are all that is left of a longer script, which in ancient times, as she well remembers, expressed this verse: Though under Earth and throneless now I be, Yet, while I lived, all Earth was under me. From which it is plain that some great king of the ancient giants, who lies buried there, caused this boast to be cut in the stone over his sepulchre; though the breaking up of some stones, and the carrying away of others for new buildings, and the filling up of the cuts with rubble, has left only two words that can still be read. Is it not the merriest jest in the world that you should have thought they were written to you?" This was like cold water down the back to Scrubb and Jill; for it seemed to them very likely that the words had nothing to do with their quest at all, and that they had been taken in by a mere accident. "Don't you mind him," said Puddleglum. "There are no accidents. Our guide is Aslan; and he was there when the giant King caused the letters to be cut, and he knew already all things that would come of them; including this." "This guide of yours must be a long liver, friend," said the Knight with another of his laughs. Jill began to find them a little irritating. "And it seems to me, Sir," answered Puddleglum, "that this Lady of yours must be a long liver too, if she remembers the verse as it was when they first cut it." "Very shrewd, Frog-face," said the Knight, clapping Puddleglum on the shoulder and laughing again. "And you have hit the truth. She is of divine race, and knows neither age nor death. I am the more thankful to her for all her infinite bounty to such a poor mortal wretch as I. For you must know, Sirs, I am a man under most strange afflictions, and none but the Queen's grace would have had patience with me. Patience, said I? But it goes far beyond that. She has promised me a great kingdom in Overland, and, when I am king, her own most gracious hand in marriage. But the tale is too long for you to hear fasting and standing. Hi there, some of you! Bring wine and Updwellers' food for my guests. Please you, be seated, gentlemen. Little maiden, sit in this chair. You shall hear it all." WHEN the meal (which was pigeon pie, cold ham, salad, and cakes) had been brought, and all had drawn their chairs up to the table and begun, the Knight continued: "You must understand, friends, that I know nothing of who I was and whence I came into this Dark World. I remember no time when I was not dwelling, as now, at the court of this all but heavenly Queen; but my thought is that she saved me from some evil enchantment and brought me hither of her exceeding bounty. (Honest Frogfoot, your cup is empty. Suffer me to refill it.) And this seems to me the likelier because even now I am bound by a spell, from which my Lady alone can free me. Every night there comes an hour when my mind is most horribly changed, and, after my mind, my body. For first I become furious and wild and would rush upon my dearest friends to kill them, if I were not bound. And soon after that, I turn into the likeness of a great serpent, hungry, fierce, and deadly. (Sir, be pleased to take another breast of pigeon, I entreat you.) So they tell me, and they certainly speak truth, for my Lady says the same. I myself know nothing of it, for when my hour is past I awake forgetful of all that vile fit and in my proper shape and sound mind - saving that I am somewhat wearied. (Little lady, eat one of these honey cakes, which are brought for me from some barbarous land in the far south of the world.) Now the Queen's majesty knows by her art that I shall be freed from this enchantment when once she has made me king of a land in the Overworld and set its crown upon my head. The land is already chosen and the very place of our breaking out. Her Earthmen have worked day and night digging a way beneath it, and have now gone so far and so high that they tunnel not a score of feet beneath the very grass on which the Updwellers of that country walk. It will be very soon now that those Uplanders' fate will come upon them. She herself is at the diggings tonight, and I expect a message to go to her. Then the thin roof of earth which still keeps me from my kingdom will be broken through, and with her to guide me and a thousand Earthmen at my back, I shall ride forth in arms, fall suddenly on our enemies, slay their chief men, cast down their strong places, and doubtless be their crowned king within four and twenty hours." "It's a bit rough luck on them, isn't it?" said Scrubb. "Thou art a lad of a wondrous, quick-working wit!" exclaimed the Knight. "For, on my honour, I had never thought of it so before. I see your meaning." He looked slightly, very slightly troubled for a moment or two; but his face soon cleared and he broke out, with another of his loud laughs, "But fie on gravity! Is it not the most comical and ridiculous thing in the world to think of them all going about their business and never dreaming that under their peaceful fields and floors, only a fathom down, there is a great army ready to break out upon them like a fountain! And they never to have suspected! Why, they themselves, when once the first smart of their defeat is over, can hardly choose but laugh at the thought!" "I don't think it's funny at all," said Jill. "I think you'll be a wicked tyrant." "What?" said the Knight, still laughing and patting her head in a quite infuriating fashion. "Is our little maid a deep politician? But never fear, sweetheart. In ruling that land, I shall do all by the counsel of my Lady, who will then be my Queen too. Her word shall be my law, even as my word will be law to the people we have conquered." "Where I come from," said Jill, who was disliking him more every minute, "they don't think much of men who are bossed about by their wives." "Shalt think otherwise when thou hast a man of thine own, I warrant you," said the Knight, apparently thinking this very funny. "But with my Lady, it is another matter. I am well content to live by her word, who has already saved me from a thousand dangers. No mother has taken pains more tenderly for her child, than the Queen's grace has for me. Why, look you, amid all her cares and business, she rideth out with me in the Overworld many a time and oft to accustom my eyes to the sunlight. And then I must go fully armed and with visor down, so that no man may see my face, and I must speak to no one. For she has found out by art magical that this would hinder my deliverance from the grievous enchantment I lie under. Is not that a lady worthy of a man's whole worship?" "Sounds a very nice lady indeed," said Puddleglum in a voice which meant exactly the opposite. They were thoroughly tired of the Knight's talk before they had finished supper. Puddleglum was thinking, "I wonder what game that witch is really playing with this young fool." Scrubb was thinking, "He's a great baby, really: tied to that woman's apron strings; he's a sap." And Jill was thinking, "He's the silliest, most conceited, selfish pig I've met for a long time." But when the meal was over, the Knight's mood had changed. There was no more laughter about him. "Friends," he said, "my hour is now very near. I am ashamed that you should see me yet I dread being left alone. They will come in presently and bind me hand and foot to yonder chair. Alas, so it must be: for in my fury, they tell me, I would destroy all that I could reach." "I say," said Scrubb, "I'm awfully sorry about your enchantment of course, but what will those fellows do to us when they come to bind you? They talked of putting us in prison. And we don't like all those dark places very much. We'd much rather stay here till you're . . . better . . . if we may." "It is well thought of," said the Knight. "By custom none but the Queen herself remains with me in my evil hour. Such is her tender care for my honour that she would not willingly suffer any ears but her own to hear the words I utter in that frenzy. But I could not easily persuade my attendant gnomes that you should be left with me. And I think I hear their soft feet even now upon the stairs. Go through yonder door: it leads into my other apartments. And there, either await my coming when they have unbound me; or, if you will, return and sit with me in my ravings." They followed his directions and passed out of the room by a door which they had not yet seen opened. It brought them, they were pleased to see, not into darkness but into a lighted corridor. They tried various doors and found (what they very badly needed) water for washing and even a looking glass. "He never offered us a wash before supper," said Jill, drying her face. "Selfish, selfcentred pig." "Are we going back to watch the enchantment, or shall we stay here?" said Scrubb. "Stay here, I vote," said Jill. "I'd much rather not see it." But she felt a little inquisitive all the same. "No, go back," said Puddleglum. "We may pick up some information, and we need all we can get. I am sure that Queen is a witch and an enemy. And those Earthmen would knock us on the head as soon as look at us. There's a stronger smell of danger and lies and magic and treason about this land than I've ever smelled before. We need to keep our eyes and ears open." They went back down the corridor and gently pushed the door open. "It's all right," said Scrubb, meaning that there were no Earthmen about. Then they all came back into the room where they had supped.

She was up and dressed and had finished breakfast in front of the fire when the Nurse opened the door and said: "Here's pretty poppet's little friends come to play with her." In came Scrubb and the Marsh-wiggle. "Hullo! Good morning," said Jill. "Isn't this fun? I've slept about fifteen hours, I believe. I do feel better, don't you?" "1 do," said Scrubb, "but Puddleglum says he has a headache. Hullo! - your window has a window seat. If we got up on that, we could see out." And at once they all did so: and at the first glance Jill said, "Oh, how perfectly dreadful!" The sun was shining and, except for a few drifts, the snow had been almost completely washed away by the rain. Down below them, spread out like a map, lay the flat hill-top which they had struggled over yesterday afternoon; seen from the castle, it could not be mistaken for anything but the ruins of a gigantic city. It had been flat, as Jill now saw, because it was still, on the whole, paved, though in places the pavement was broken. The criss-cross banks were what was left of the walls of huge buildings which might once have been giants' palaces and temples. One bit of wall, about five hundred feet high, was still standing; it was that which she had thought was a cliff. The things that had looked like factory chimneys were enormous pillars, broken off at unequal heights; their fragments lay at their bases like felled trees of monstrous stone. The ledges which they had climbed down on the north side of the hill - and also, no doubt the other ledges which they had climbed up on the south side - were the remaining steps of giant stairs. To crown all, in large, dark lettering across the centre of the pavement, ran the words UNDER ME. The three travellers looked at each other in dismay, and, after a short whistle, Scrubb said what they were all thinking, "The second and third signs muffed." And at that moment Jill's dream rushed back into her mind. "It's my fault," she said in despairing tones. "I - I'd given up repeating the signs every night. If I'd been thinking about them I could have seen it was the city, even in all that snow." "I'm worse," said Puddleglum. "I did see, or nearly. I thought it looked uncommonly like a ruined city." "You're the only one who isn't to blame," said Scrubb. "You did try to make us stop." "Didn't try hard enough, though," said the Marshwiggle. "And I'd no call to be trying. I ought to have done it. As if I couldn't have stopped you two with one hand each!" "The truth is," said Scrubb, "we were so jolly keen on getting to this place that we weren't bothering about anything else. At least I know I was. Ever since we met that woman with the knight who didn't talk, we've been thinking of nothing else. We'd nearly forgotten about Prince Rilian." "I shouldn't wonder," said Puddleglum, "if that wasn't exactly what she intended." "What I don't quite understand," said Jill, "is how we didn't see the lettering? Or could it have come there since last night. Could he - Aslan - have put it there in the night? I had such a queer dream." And she told them all about it. "Why, you chump!" said Scrubb. "We did see it. We got into the lettering. Don't you see? We got into the letter E in ME. That was your sunk lane. We walked along the bottom stroke of the E, due north - turned to our right along the upright - came to another turn to the right - that's the middle stroke - and then went on to the top left-hand corner, or (if you like) the north-eastern corner of the letter, and came back. Like the bally idiots we are." He kicked the window seat savagely, and went on, "So it's no good, Pole. I know what you were thinking because I was thinking the same. You were thinking how nice it would have been if Aslan hadn't put the instructions on the stones of the ruined city till after we'd passed it. And then it would have been his fault, not ours. So likely, isn't it? No. We must just own up. We've only four signs to go by, and we've muffed the first three." "You mean I have," said Jill. "It's quite true. I've spoiled everything ever since you brought me here. All the same - I'm frightfully sorry and all that - all the same, what are the instructions? UNDER ME doesn't seem to make much sense." "Yes it does, though," said Puddleglum. "It means we've got to look for the Prince under that city." "But how can we?" asked Jill. "That's the question," said Puddleglum, rubbing his big, frog-like hands together. "How can we now? No doubt, if we'd had our minds on our job when we were at the Ruinous City, we'd have been shown how - found a little door, or a cave, or a tunnel, met someone to help us. Might have been (you never know) Aslan himself. We'd have got down under those paving-stones somehow or other. Aslan's instructions always work: there are no exceptions. But how to do it now - that's another matter." "Well, we shall just have to go back, I suppose," said Jill. "Easy, isn't it?" said Puddleglum. "We might try opening that door to begin with." And they all looked at the door and saw that none of them could reach the handle, and that almost certainly no one could turn it if they did. "Do you think they won't let us out if we ask?" said Jill. And nobody said, but everyone thought, "Supposing they don't." It was not a pleasant idea. Puddleglum was dead against any idea of telling the giants their real business and simply asking to be let out; and of course the children couldn't tell without his permission, because they had promised. And all three felt pretty sure that there would be no chance of escaping from the castle by night. Once they were in their rooms with the doors shut, they would be prisoners till morning. They might, of course, ask to have their doors left open, but that would rouse suspicions. "Our only chance," said Scrubb, "is to try to sneak away by daylight. Mightn't there be an hour in the afternoon when most of the giants are asleep? - and if we could steal down into the kitchen, mightn't there be a back door open?" "It's hardly what I call a Chance," said the Marshwiggle. "But it's all the chance we're likely to get." As a matter of fact, Scrubb's plan was not quite so hopeless as you might think. If you want to get out of a house without being seen, the middle of the afternoon is in some ways a better time to try it than the middle of the night. Doors and windows are more likely to be open; and if you are caught, you can always pretend you weren't meaning to go far and had no particular plans. (It is very hard to make either giants or grown-ups believe this if you're found climbing out of a bedroom window at one o'clock in the morning.) "We must put them off their guard, though," said Scrubb. "We must pretend we love being here and are longing for this Autumn Feast."

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Jill found that her mouth was so dry that she couldn't speak a word. She nodded savagely at Scrubb. Thinking to himself that he would never forgive her (or Puddleglum either), Scrubb licked his lips and shouted up to the King giant. "If you please, Sire, the Lady of the Green Kirtle salutes you by us and said you'd like to have us for your Autumn Feast." The giant King and Queen looked at each other, nodded to each other, and smiled in a way that Jill didn't exactly like. She liked the King better than the Queen. He had a fine, curled beard and a straight eagle-like nose, and was really rather good-looking as giants go. The Queen was dreadfully fat and had a double chin and a fat, powdered face - which isn't a very nice thing at the best of times, and of course looks much worse when it is ten times too big. Then the King put out his tongue and licked his lips. Anyone might do that: but his tongue was so very large and red, and came out so unexpectedly, that it gave Jill quite a shock. "Oh, what good children!" said the Queen. ("Perhaps she's the nice one after all," thought Jill.) "Yes indeed," said the King. "Quite excellent children. We welcome you to our court. Give me your hands." He stretched down his great right hand - very clean and with any number of rings on the fingers, but also with terrible pointed nails. He was much too big to shake the hands which the children, in turn, held up to him; but he shook the arms. "And what's that?" asked the King, pointing to Puddleglum. "Reshpeckobiggle," said Puddleglum. "Oh!" screamed the Queen, gathering her skirts close about her ankles. "The horrid thing! It's alive." "He's quite all right, your Majesty, really, he is," said Scrubb hastily. "You'll like him much better when you get to know him. I'm sure you will." I hope you won't lose all interest in Jill for the rest of the book if I tell you that at this moment she began to cry. There was a good deal of excuse for her. Her feet and hands and ears and nose were still only just beginning to thaw; melted snow was trickling off her clothes; she had had hardly anything to eat or drink that day; and her legs were aching so that she felt she could not go on standing much longer. Anyway, it did more good at the moment than anything else would have done, for the Queen said: "Ah, the poor child! My lord, we do wrong to keep our guests standing. Quick, some of you! Take them away. Give them food and wine and baths. Comfort the little girl. Give her lollipops, give her dolls, give her physics, give her all you can think of - possets and comfits and caraways and lullabies and toys. Don't cry, little girl, or you won't be good for anything when the feast comes." Jill was just as indignant as you and I would have been at the mention of toys and dolls; and, though lollipops and comfits might be all very well in their way, she very much hoped that something more solid would be provided. The Queen's foolish speech, however, produced excellent results, for Puddleglum and Scrubb were at once picked up by gigantic gentlemen-in-waiting, and Jill by a gigantic maid of honour, and carried off to their rooms. Jill's room was about the size of a church, and would have been rather grim if it had not had a roaring fire on the hearth and a very thick crimson carpet on the floor. And here delightful things began to happen to her. She was handed over to the Queen's old Nurse, who was, from the giants' point of view, a little old woman almost bent double with age, and, from the human point of view, a giantess small enough to go about an ordinary room without knocking her head on the ceiling. She was very capable, though Jill did wish she wouldn't keep on clicking her tongue and saying things like "Oh la, la! Ups-adaisy" and "There's a duck" and "Now we'll be all right, my poppet". She filled a giant foot-bath with hot water and helped Jill into it. If you can swim (as Jill could) a giant bath is a lovely thing. And giant towels, though a bit rough and coarse, are lovely too, because there are acres of them. In fact you don't need to dry at all, you just roll about on them in front of the fire and enjoy yourself. And when that was over, clean, fresh, warmed clothes were put on Jill: very splendid clothes and a little too big for her, but clearly made for humans not giantesses. "I suppose if that woman in the green kirtle comes here, they must be used to guests of our size," thought Jill. She soon saw that she was right about this, for a table and chair of the right height for an ordinary grown-up human were placed for her, and the knives and forks and spoons were the proper size too. It was delightful to sit down, feeling warm and clean at last. Her feet were still bare and it was lovely to tread on the giant carpet. She sank in it well over her ankles and it was just the thing for sore feet. The meal - which I suppose we must call dinner, though it was nearer tea time - was cock-a-leekie soup, and hot roast turkey, and a steamed pudding, and roast chestnuts, and as much fruit as you could eat. The only annoying thing was that the Nurse kept coming in and out, and every time she came in, she brought a gigantic toy with her - a huge doll, bigger than Jill herself, a wooden horse on wheels, about the size of an elephant, a drum that looked like a young gasometer, and a woolly lamb. They were crude, badly made things, painted in very bright colours, and Jill hated the sight of them. She kept on telling the Nurse she didn't want them, but the Nurse said: "Tut-tut-tut-tut. You'll want 'em all right when you've had a bit of a rest, I know! Te-he-he! Beddy bye, now. A precious poppet!" The bed was not a giant bed but only a big four-poster, like what you might see in an old-fashioned hotel; and very small it looked in that enormous room. She was very glad to tumble into it. "Is it still snowing, Nurse?" she asked sleepily. "No. Raining now, ducky!" said the giantess. "Rain'll wash away all the nasty snow. Precious poppet will be able to go out and play tomorrow!" And she tucked Jill up and said good night. I know nothing so disagreeable as being kissed by a giantess. Jill thought the same, but was asleep in five minutes. The rain fell steadily all the evening and all the night, dashing against the windows of the castle, and Jill never heard it but slept deeply, past supper time and past midnight. And then came the deadest hour of the night and nothing stirred but mice in the house of the giants. At that hour there came to Jill a dream. It seemed to her that she awoke in the same room and saw the fire, sunk low and red, and in the firelight the great wooden horse. And the horse came of its own will, rolling on its wheels across the carpet, and stood at her head. And now it was no longer a horse, but a lion as big as the horse. And then it was not a toy lion, but a real lion, The Real Lion, just as she had seen him on the mountain beyond the world's end. And a smell of all sweet-smelling things there are filled the room. But there was some trouble in Jill's mind, though she could not think what it was, and the tears streamed down her face and wet the pillow. The Lion told her to repeat the signs, and she found that she had forgotten them all. At that, a great horror came over her. And Aslan took her up in his jaws (she could feel his lips and his breath but not his teeth) and carried her to the window and made her look out. The moon shone bright; and written in great letters across the world or the sky (she did not know which) were the words UNDER ME. After that, the dream faded away, and when she woke, very late next morning, she did not remember that she had dreamed at all.

women kneel to grab the phone just as the elevator door opens, but Mrs. X gets there first. With a shaking hand she picks it up and drops it into her clutch. She puts her other hand to the floor to steady herself, her icy blue eyes even with Connie's brown ones. "We seem to be unable to communicate, Connie," she hisses through clenched teeth. "So let me be crystal clear. I want you to gather your things and get out of my house. I want you out of my house. That's what I want." She stands with a shake of her mink and pushes a stunned Grayer into the elevator as the door closes. Connie pulls herself up by the foyer table and walks past me back into the apartment. I take a moment to collect myself before slowly shutting the front door. I walk through the kitchen and find Connie standing with her back to me in the maid's room, her broad shoulders quivering in the small space. "God, Connie. Are you okay?" I ask quietly in the doorway. She turns to me-her pain and outrage so rawly palpable on her face that I'm struck silent. She slumps down on the old tweed fold-out couch and undoes the top button of her white uniform. "I've been here twelve years," she says, shaking her head. "I was here before her and I thought I'd be here after." "Do you want something to drink?" I ask, stepping into the narrow gap between the couch and the ironing board. "Some juice maybe? I could try to get into the liquor cabinet." "She wants me to leave? She wants me to leave?" I sit down on Mrs. X's steamer trunk. "I've wanted to leave since the first day she got here," she snorts, reaching for a half-ironed T-shirt and wiping her eyes. "Let me tell you something-when they went to Lyford whatever-I didn't get paid. I never get paid when they go away. Not my fault they're on vacation. I'm not on vacation. I still have three kids and plenty of bills to pay. And this year-this year-she asked him to declare me! They never declare me! Where am I supposed to come up with that kind of money now? I had to borrow money from my mother to pay all these taxes." She sits back and pulls off her apron. "When Mrs. X and Grayer flew to the Bahamas last year and I was going there too to see my family, she made me fly with them. Grayer spilled juice all over hisself at takeoff and she didn't have a change for him and he's sitting there cold and wet and crying and she just pull on that sleep thing over her eyes and ignore him the whole flight. And I didn't get paid for that! Oh, was I mad-that's why I'm not a nanny. You ever hear about Jackie?" I shake my head. "Jackie was his baby nurse, but she stayed till Grayer was two." "What happened to her?" "Well, she got a boyfriend. That's what happened to her." I look at her quizzically. "For two years she just worked, she'd only been here maybe a few years and didn't have too many friends. So she practically lived here and she and Mrs. X got on okay. I think they got together about Mr. X traveling and Jackie dating no one special- you know, man troubles. But then Jackie met someone-he looked like Bob Marley-and now she can't work Friday nights and she don't like to work the weekend if the Xes don't be in Connecticut. So Mrs. X starts in with how inconvenienced she is. But really, she jealous. Jackie had that glow, you know. She had that look about her and Mrs. X couldn't stand it. So she fired her. Nearly broke Grayer's heart. After that-he was like a little devil child." "Wow." I take a deep breath. "Oh, you ain't heard the bad part. Jackie called me six months later. She couldn't get a new job because Mrs. X wouldn't give her a reference. You know, no reference, they think Jackie stole or something. So she got two years missing on her resume. And the agency didn't want to send her out no more." She stands up and wipes her hands slowly down her skirt. "That woman is pure evil. They have six nannies in four months before Caitlin-no one stayed. And one got fired for giving him a corn muffin in the park. Don't you never feed him if you want to keep your job, you hear? And Mr. X-keeps porn in his shoe closet, the naaasty kind." I'm trying to take this all in. "Connie, I'm so sorry." "Don't you be sorry for me." She tosses the crumpled t-shirt onto the couch and marches with purpose into the kitchen. "You just watch out for yourself." I follow her.

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The train pulls to a stop and I step out into the cold sunshine. I make my way down the steps of the platform to the street and discover that I am not four blocks away from my interview, but fourteen. I must have misunderstood the woman on the phone. I check my watch, picking up the pace. I was too nervous this morning to have breakfast, but the ninety-minute trek has revived my appetite. I walk/run down the long streets, knowing I should eat or risk passing out mid-lesson. Fully out of breath, I run into a tiny newspaper stand, grab a bag of peanuts, and stuff them in my backpack. One door down I ring the buzzer next to a taped piece of hand-colored paper that reads "Communities Against Conflict." A voice blares unintelligibly out through the static and the door clicks, letting me into a stairwell, once painted green, and lined with posters of children in playgrounds looking gravely into the camera. I examine each print as I climb the stairs and, judging by the haircuts and bell-bottoms, guess these are promo posters circa the early seventies, around the time that this organization was founded. I buzz again at the top step and am greeted by loud barking, before a large hand pulls the door slightly ajar. "Snowflake, stay! STAY!" "I'm here for the interview?" I say, looking around for another door, assuming I've mistakenly interrupted a resident in the building. A pale woman's face appears in the crack. "Yeah, Communities Against Conflict. You're in the right place, come on in, just be careful of Snowflake; he's always trying to free himself." I shimmy through the small opening she's made in the door and practically come face-to-face with a humongous black shepherd and the rest of an equally large woman in overalls and waist-length, graying blond hair. I smile, bending down to pet Snowflake, who is trying to get past her widely planted legs. "NO!" she screams. I jolt up. "He's not really a people person. Are you, Snowflake?" She pats the dog gruffly on his head with her free hand, as the other holds a stack of manila folders. Having adequately warned me, she lets Snowflake check me out while I stay perfectly still. "I'm Reena, the executive director of Communities. You are?" She fixes me with an intense stare. I try to get a read on her, attempting to figure out who she would like me to be. "Nan. I think I was supposed to meet with Richard." I aim for solid and warm, without a hint of cheerful. "Nan? I thought your name was Naminia. Shit. RICHARD!" Reena bellows at me and I almost duck. She turns back to her files. "He'll be here in a minute. RICHARD!" she screams again, this time into the filing cabinet. "Okay! I'll just have a seat." I try to demonstrate that I am someone who can take care of herself, as I sense independence is of value here. I turn around to discover that the two chairs designated to the few feet serving as a waiting area are both piled with overflowing boxes of yellowing brochures. I opt for standing by the wall and getting out of Reena's way, as this seems to be a Communities value, as well. A door flies open at the far side of the room and a man with a pasty complexion, who looks related to Reena and whom I presume to be Richard, emerges. He squints at me in his glasses, breathing heavily with the effort of getting around her and the dog to greet me. He is sweating profusely and has a wilted cigarette stuck behind his ear. "Naminia!" "Nan," Reena grunts over a file. "Oh, Nan... I'm Richard, the artistic director. Well, I see you've met Reena and Snowflake. Why don't we get right to it! Let's go into the Feelings Room and get you set up." He shakes my hand and exchanges glances with Reena. I follow him to the Feelings Room, which is about the same size as the office, but without all the desks. "So have a seat there, Nan." I do, ready to tell my whole, wonderful story. Ready to knock 'em dead. "Now let me tell you about myself..." Richard begins. He leans back in the plastic folding chair and proceeds to explain about his decades spent in social work, how he met up with Reena at a rally against the superintendent, their years traveling the globe to gather methodologies for conflict resolution, and the host of "virtually thousands of kids" that he has personally trained to "make the world a better place." He also goes on extensively about his misguided childhood, the "illegitimate" son who doesn't call him anymore, and his recent attempts to quit smoking. I zone in and out, keeping a beaming smile on my face and developing a fixation on the peanuts in my bag. About an hour later he finally says, "So I see here that you are minoring in gender studies, what does that mean?" He scans the resume I faxed in, squinting to read the blurred print. I follow his gaze to the top of the page to discover that I am "Naminia of 4ish East 90 something Street." Ahh, Naminia. "Well, I'm in the home stretch of a major in child development and I was very interested in supplementing this work-" "So you're not a feminist bitch, then?" He has a good, hearty laugh, taking a Kleenex out of his pocket and wiping down his forehead. I attempt a weak laugh. "As I was saying, I've been completing my thesis with Professor Clarkson and have been interning this semester at an after-school program in Brooklyn-" "Right. So let's get you up and running! Let me grab Reena and we'll get started with your session." He stands. "REEENA!" Loud barking ensues in the other room. I pull my lesson plan out of my backpack while Snowflake bursts in, followed by Reena. I walk to the other side of the room and write my notes on the rolling blackboard. I take a deep breath. "I have prepared a session on peer pressure for fourteen-year-olds in grade nine. As you'll see on the board here I have written these key terms. I would begin by asking the group to work together to construct-" "Teacher! Teacher!" Richard is waving wildly from the back of the room. "I'm sorry, are you not ready for me to start?" I ask, unsure of what is happening. He balls up a piece of paper and throws it at Reena, who starts to mock cry. "Teacher! Reena said a bad word!" Reena continues to boo-hoo, causing Snowflake to circle her, barking. "I'm sorry, Richard, it was my understanding that we were just doing an overview." But they are in their own world, throwing paper at each other and fake crying. I clear my throat. "Okay, the session you asked me-to prepare was for teenagers, um, but I can modify it for preschoolers." I glance at my notes and frantically try to downscale the plan for a different age group. I turn back to face two huge adults and one huge dog, hiding behind chairs and launching paper. "Um, excuse me? Excuse me? OKAY, CLASS!" I say loudly, giving sway to my frustration. They turn back to me. Reena stands up, breaking character. "How are you feeling right now, Nan?" "Sorry?" I ask. Richard gets out his notebook. "How do you feel about us in this moment? What does your gut say?" They look at me expectantly. "Well, I think perhaps I misunderstood the directives-" "Shit, Nan. Do you have rage in there? Do you hate us? We are just not feeling the love. I want to hear it from you. How is your relationship with your mother?" "Reena, frankly I'm unclear how this relates to my abilities to-" Reena puts her hands on her large hips and Snowflake circles her heels. "We're a family here. There are no boundaries in the Feelings Room. You've got to come in here with trust and love and just go for it. Here's the thing, Nan. We're really not looking to hire white women right now." She is so comfortable with this statement that I'm tempted to ask how many openings they have for white, feminist bitches. Even more bizarre, why a person of color might have a better time discussing their maternal issues with complete strangers. White strangers, nonetheless. Richard stands, soaked with sweat and coughing a smoker's cough. "We have just gotten way too many resumes from white girls. You don't speak Korean, do you?" I shake my head, speechless. "Nan, we're trying to model diversity here, to represent an ideal community. SNOWFLAKE, HEEL!" Snowflake wanders back from where he has been sniffing around my bag. He passes me with his head down, swallowing the last of my peanuts. I look at both of their very white faces against the backdrop of bright rainbows painted on the peeling wall behind them. "Well, thank you for the opportunity, you have a very interesting organization here." I quickly gather my things. They walk me to the door. "Yeah, maybe next semester, we'll be doing some fund-raising work on the East Side. Would you be interested in that?" I picture introducing Reena to Mrs. X at the Met so she can ask her about her rage. "I'm really looking for fieldwork right now. Thanks, though." I get out the door and go directly to Burger King for an extra large fries and a Coke. Folded into an immobile red seat I sigh deeply, comparing Reena and Richard with Jane and Mrs. X. Somewhere out there must be people who believe in a middle ground between demanding children to "feel their rage" and overprogramming children so everyone can pretend they don't have any. I take a long sip of my soda. Apparently, I'm not going to be finding it anytime soon. "See, if I have two jellybeans and you have one jellybean, together we have three jellybeans!" I hold out the jellybeans to make my point. "I like the white ones and the ones that taste like banana. How do they do that, Nanny? How do they make it taste like banana?" Grayer lines up the colored candy like railroad tracks on his bedroom carpet. "I dunno, G. Maybe they mush up a banana and they mush up the jelly and then they mush it all together and cook it in a bean shape?" "Yeah! A bean shape!" So much for math. "Nanny, try this one!" Yesterday's peony arrangement came with a Grayer-size tin of jellybeans. "How about the green ones? How do they make those-" We both hear the door slam. Only three hours late, not bad. "DADDY!!" He runs out of the room and I follow into the hall. "Hey, sport. Where's your mother?" He pats Grayer on the head while loosening his tie. "Here I am," she says and we all turn. She is wearing a powder-blue pencil skirt, kitten heels, a cashmere V-neck sweater, eye shadow, mascara, and blush. Va-voom. If this were the first time my husband had been home in three weeks, I'd get dolled up, too. She smiles shakily beneath her rose lipstick. "Well, let's get this started," he says, barely glancing at her before heading to the living room where Jane left her charts and diagrams. Grayer and his mother scamper in behind Mr. X and I am left behind in the front hall. I take a seat on the bench, resuming my role as lady-in-waiting. "Darling," Mrs. X begins with a bit too much enthusiasm. "Shall I have Connie get you a drink? Or perhaps some coffee? CONNIE!" I jump about three feet and Connie comes flying out of the kitchen, her hands still wet. "Jesus, do you have to be so shrill? No. I just ate," Mr. X says. Connie stops just short of entering the room. We exchange glances and I make room for her on the bench. "Oh. Oh, all right. So, Grayer, Mommy and Daddy want to talk to you about where you're going to school next year." Mrs. X attempts a second opening. "I'm going to Collegiate," Grayer offers, trying to be helpful. "No, sweetie. Mommy and Daddy have decided that you are going to St. Bernard's." "Burnurd?" he asks. There is a moment of silence. "Can we play trains now? Daddy, I got a new train, it's red." "So, sweetie. You can't wear the blue sweatshirt anymore, okay?" she says. Connie rolls her eyes at me. "Why?" "Because it says Collegiate on it and you're going to St. Bernard's-" Mr. X says with exasperation. "But I like it." "Yes, sweetie. We'll get you a St. Bernard's sweatshirt." "I like the blue one!" I lean in and whisper to Connie. "Oh, for the love of God, let him wear it inside out. Who cares?" She throws her hands up. Mrs. X clears her throat. "Okay, sweetie. We'll talk about this later." Connie disappears back into the kitchen. "Daddy, come see my trains! I'll show you the new one. It's red and really, really fast!" Grayer flies past me toward his room. "That was a complete waste of time. He clearly could care less," Mr. X says. "Well, Jane felt it was important-" she retorts defensively. "Who the hell is Jane?" he asks. "Look, do you have the slightest idea of what it means to be in the middle of a merger? I don't have time for this-" "I'm sorry, but-" "Do I have to be on top of everything?" he growls. "The one thing I delegated to you was his schooling and now it's all fucked up." "It was a very competitive year!" she cries. "Grayer doesn't play the violin!" "What the fuck does the violin have to do with anything?" "Maybe if you'd spend an hour of your precious time with us he might have done better in his interviews," she spits back. "My precious time? My precious time? I am bashing my brains out eighty hours a week so you can stand there in your pearls, with your eight-thousand-dollar curtains and your 'charity work,' and question how I spend my time?! Who's going to pay his tuition bills, huh? You?" "Honey." She softens. "I know you're under a lot of pressure. Look, since you're already home, why don't we talk about it over a nice relaxing dinner? I made a reservation at that place you love, down by the river." Her kitten heels make little clicks as she walks over to him. Her voice drops. "We could get a room at the Pierre, maybe the one with the double Jacuzzi bath ... I've really missed you." It's quiet for a minute and then I distinctly hear the sound of them kissing. Their low laughter drifts into the hallway. I'm just about to sneak off to Grayer's room when Mrs. X coos "Should I send a donation to St. Bernard's with the tuition check, so we get off on the right foot with them?"

She scribbles a few more notes and smiles evenly at me. "Well, Nanny, I advise you to integrate time for reflection as you continue to work with Grayer. Here are a series of Best Practices from other caregivers that I suggest you review and internalize. This is explicit knowledge, Nanny, explicit knowledge from your peers that must become tacit for you if Grayer is to reach his optimal state." She hands me a bunch of papers with a big clip at the top and stands, sliding her glasses back on. I stand up, too, feeling I need, somehow, to clean this up. "I didn't mean to seem defensive. I care very deeply for Grayer and follow all of Mrs. X's instructions. The past few months he's insisted on the Collegiate sweatsuit almost every day. And Mrs, X even got him a few more so he would have one to wear when the others were in the wash. So I just want to be sure that you know I-" She puts out her hand for me to shake. "Right. Thank you for your time this afternoon, Nanny." I shake her hand. "Yes, thank you. I'll read these through tonight. I'm sure they'll be very helpful." "Come on, Grove, finish up so we can go play a game." Grayer has been pushing around his last tortellini for about five minutes. Thanks to Jane, it's already been a long afternoon for both of us. I look down at him, resting his blond head on his arm and staring horizontally at the last of his dinner. "Whatsa matter? Not hungry?" "No." I reach for his plate. "No!" He grabs the edge, causing his fork to drop to the table. "Okay, Grayer, just say 'Nanny, I'm not finished.' I can wait." I sit back down. "Nanny!" Mrs. X comes bustling in. "Nanny." She's about to speak when she sees Grayer and the lone tortellini. "Did you have a good dinner, Grayer?" "Yes," he says into his arm. But she's already focused her attention back to me. "Could you come out here for a minute?" I follow her into the dining room where she turns and stops so abruptly I accidentally step on her foot. "I'm sorry, are you okay?" She grimaces. "I'm fine. I just finished with Jane and it's paramount that we have a family meeting, to break the news to Grayer together about the r-e-j-e-c-t-i-o-n. So I'll need you to call Mr. X's office and find out when he could be scheduled to attend. The number's in the pantry-" "Mrs. X?" Jane calls as she comes into the hall. "Sure. No problem. Right away." I quickly slip back into the kitchen. Grayer is still making slow circles with his fork, the tortellini in orbit. I hover over him for a moment while listening to Jane and Mrs. X in the hallway. "Yes, I've just spoken with Nanny. I'm going to see how soon my husband can come home for this meeting," Mrs. X says, waxing professional. "His presence is really unnecessary as long as Grayer perceives his primary caregiver to be present. You should just go ahead and speak with him yourself." Jane's voice moves toward the front door and I head for the phone. "Mr. X's office, Justine speaking. How may I help you?" "Justine? Hi, it's Nanny." "Hi. How are you?" she asks over the din of a printer. "Hanging in there. How about you?" "Busy," she sighs. "The merger is making things crazy around here. I haven't been home before midnight in two weeks." "That sucks." "Well, hopefully Mr. X'll get a huge retention bonus and spread a little of it around." Don't count on it. "So, is Mrs. X liking the flowers?" "What?" "The roses-I thought it was overkill, but Mr. X just told me to put in a standing order." "Yeah, it kind of feels like a standing order," I confirm. "I'll make sure tomorrow's bouquet has more variety. What's her favorite flower?" "She likes peonies," I whisper as Mrs. X breezes past Grayer to stand in front of me, expectantly. "Where am I going to find peonies in March?" Justine sighs again as the printer makes a clacking sound. "Ugh, I can't believe this thing is broken again. Sorry, never mind, I'll do it. Anything else?" "Oh, right. Mrs. X wants to schedule a family meeting about..."-I glance over her shoulder at the pasta pusher-"the little one. When could he be here?" "Let's see ... I could push a meeting up ..." I can hear her flipping pages. "Tuh, tah, tah . .. Yeah, I can get him back to New York by Wednesday at four. I'll have him there." "Great. Thanks, Justine." "Anytime." I hang up the phone and turn to her. "Justine said that he can be here Wednesday at four." "Well, if that's really the soonest he can make it... I guess that will have to do." She glances down to adjust her sparkling engagement ring. "Jane said it was crucial that he be here, so . . ." Right. "I mean, the Wall Street Journal! He's four!" "Jesus," my dad exclaims just as Sophie pushes her nose between our legs. "Your mom still wants you out of there." "I can handle it." I jog forward a few steps and Sophie circles, ready for her next run. "And there's no way I could leave Grayer right now." Dad runs to the bottom of the hill. "Sophie! Come on!" Sophie looks confused. "Over here!" he calls. Sophie turns 180 degrees from my heels and takes off in his direction against a cold gust of wind that blows her ears even farther back. As soon as she reaches him, running just below his gloved hands, I call to her and she gallops back up toward me, and then the two of us run down the slope until we are beside him on the main promenade that runs along the uptown stretch of Riverside Park. "Ready for your interview tomorrow?" Sophie rolls into his shins in an effort to catch up. "I'm kind of nervous, but Professor Clarkson's been practicing with us in class. I'd really like to have my job for next year lined up soon." I hunch my shoulders against another gust of cold wind. "You'll knock 'em dead. Go long!" I run back up the hill toward the edge of the trees and look back down just as the streetlight turns on, making it appear darker around us. I look up into the yellow glow, composing a wish along the lines of "star light, star bright." "Oh, electric gods of the tristate area, I'm just wishing for a real, honest-to-goodness job with set hours and an office where the boss's underwear isn't drying in the bathroom. Someday I'd like to be able to help more than one child at a time- children who don't come accessorized with their own consultants. Thank you. Amen." The subway car is suddenly flooded with sunlight as we surface high over the streets of the South Bronx. I feel that twinge of excitement I always do when a train car moves aboveground, flying over the city on its skinny rails like an amusement-park ride. I pull my lesson plan out of my backpack and stare at it for the millionth time. The opportunity to join a conflict-resolution team for city schools is exactly the kind of job I've been training for. Plus, it would be good to work with teenagers and take a break from the tiny folk.

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Do you still have family there?" I ask. "Well, my husband and sons are there." She blinks a couple of times and looks down. "Oh," I say. "Yes, we all came together, to find work. I was an engineer in San Salvador. But there were no more jobs and we hoped to make money here. Then my husband was rejected for the green card and had to go back with our sons, because I could not work and take care of them." "How often do you see them?" I ask as Grayer shifts fitfully in his sleep. "I try to go home for two weeks at Christmastime, but this year Mr. and Mrs. Zuckerman needed me to go to France." She folds and unfolds Darwin's sweater. "Do you have pictures of your children? I bet they're beautiful." I am not sure what the positive spin is on this situation or where to take this conversation. I know if my mom were here she would have already rolled Sima up in the Story Time rug and smuggled her to the first safe house she could find. "No, I don't keep a picture on me. It's too ... hard . . ." She smiles. "Someday when Grayer comes to play at Darwin's house, I will show you then. What about you? Do you have children?" "No. Me? No, thank God." We both laugh. "A boyfriend, then?" "I'm working on that," and I begin to tell her about H. H. We share slices of our own stories, the parts of our lives the Zuckermans and the Xes neither partake in nor know about, amid all the bright lights and colors, surrounded by a cacophony of screaming. It starts to snow outside the big windows and I tuck my stocking feet beneath me while she rests her chin on her outstretched arm. Thus I while away the afternoon with a woman who has a higher degree than I will ever receive, in a subject I can't get a passing grade in, and who has been home less than one month in the last twenty-four. For the past week I've been arriving at seven to dress Grayer for school, before dropping him off with Mrs. Butters and running madly down to class. Mrs. X never emerges from her room in the mornings and is out every afternoon, so I was surprised when Connie told me she was waiting for me in her office. "Mrs. X?" I knock on the door. "Come in." I push the door open with slight trepidation, but find her seated at the desk, fully dressed in a cashmere cardigan and slacks. Despite her best efforts with cream blush, she still looks drawn. "What are you doing home so early?" she asks. "Grayer had a run-in with some green paint so I brought him home to change before ice skating-" The phone rings and she motions for me to stay. "Hello?. . . Oh, hi, Joyce ... No, the letters haven't come yet... I don't know, slow zip code, I guess . .." Her voice still sounds hollow. "All the schools she applied to? Really? That's fabulous ... Well, which one are you going to choose?.. . Well, I don't know as much about the girls' schools... I'm sure you'll make the right decision ... Excellent. Bye." She turns back to me. "Her daughter got into every school she applied to. I don't get it, she isn't even cute . . . What were you saying?" "The paint-don't worry, he wasn't wearing the Collegiate sweatshirt when it happened. He made a really beautiful tree picture-" "Doesn't he have a change of clothes at school?" "Yeah, I'm sorry-he used them last week when Giselle dumped glue on him and I forgot to replace it." "What if he hadn't had time to change?" "I'm sorry. I'll bring it tomorrow." I start to leave. "Oh, Nanny?" I stick my head back in. "While I've got you, I need to have a talk with you about Grayer's applications. Where is he?" "He's watching Connie dust." Your chair-rail moldings. With a toothbrush. "Good, have a seat." She gestures to one of the upholstered wing chairs across from her desk. "Nanny, I have something terrible to tell you." She casts her eyes down to her hands twisting in her lap. I can't breathe. I brace myself for panties. "We got some very bad news this morning," she says slowly, struggling to get the words out. "Grayer got rejected from Collegiate." "No." I quickly wipe the look of relief off my face. "I don't believe it." "I know-it's just awful. And, to make matters even worse, he's been wait-listed at St. David's and St. Bernard's. Wait-listed." She shakes her head. "So now our fingers are crossed for Trinity, but if, for some reason, that too doesn't work out, then we're just going to be left with his safeties and I'm not enthusiastic about the college placements at those schools." "But he's adorable. He's smart and articulate. He's funny. He shares well. I just don't get it." I mean, lose the tie, what's not to love about this kid? "I've been going over everything all morning, just trying to make sense of it." She looks out the window. "Our application coach told us he was a shoo-in for Collegiate." "My father did say this was the most competitive year they've ever had. They were inundated with qualified applicants and probably had to make some really tough choices." Keeping in mind that the applicants are four and you can't exactly ask them if they have any thoughts on the federal deficit or where they see themselves in five years. "I thought your father liked Grayer when he met him," she asks pointedly, referring to the rainy afternoon I took him over to my house to pet Sophie. "He did. They sang 'Rainbow Connection' together." "Hmmm. Interesting." "What?" "No, nothing. Just interesting, that's all." "My dad's not really involved at all with the admissions process." "Right. Well, I wanted to talk to you because I'm concerned that dressing him in that Collegiate sweatshirt may have set Grayer's expectations in a certain direction and I want to ensure that-" She's interrupted by the phone. "Hold on." She answers it. "Hello? Oh, hi, Sally .. . No, our letters haven't come yet... Oh, Collegiate. Congratulations, that's excellent... Well, Ryan's a very special little boy . . . Yes, that would be great. I know Grayer would love to go to school with Ryan ... Yes, dinner would be lovely . .. Oh, the four of us? I'll have to check my husband's schedule. Let's talk after the weekend... Great. Bye!" She takes a deep breath and clenches her jaw. "Where was I?" "Grayer's expectations?" "Oh, yes. I'm concerned that your encouragement of his fixation on Collegiate may have set him up for a potentially deleterious self-esteem adjustment." "I..." "No, please don't feel bad. It's really my fault for allowing you to do it. I should have been more on top of you." She sighs and shakes her head. "But I spoke to my pediatrician this morning and he suggested a Long-term Development Consultant who specializes in coaching parents and caregivers through this transition. She'll be coming by tomorrow while Grayer's in piano and she's asked to speak with you separately to assess your role in his development." "Great. That sounds like a good idea." I go through the doorway. "Urn." I stick my head back in. "Should I not let him wear it today?" "What?" She reaches for her coffee. "The sweatshirt." "Oh. Well, he can wear it today and then we'll let the consultant tell us how to handle this situation tomorrow." "Okay, great." I go back out to where Grayer, seated in the banquette, is watching Connie polish the stove, while absentmindedly playing with the tie around his neck, and wonder if perhaps we're not focusing on the wrong piece of apparel. I sit in the chair next to Mrs. X's desk, waiting for the consultant, and surreptitiously try to read, upside down, the notes scrawled on Mrs. X's notepad. Even though it's probably nothing more than a glorified grocery list, the fact that I have been left alone in here makes me feel as if I should be covert. If I had a camera hidden in a button on my sweater I would frantically try to photograph everything on the desk. I'm starting to make myself laugh at the idea of it when the woman enters, briefcase first. "Nanny." She reaches out to firmly shake my hand. "I'm Jane. Jane Gould. How are you today?" She speaks just a little too loudly, eyeing me over her glasses as she puts her briefcase down on Mrs. X's desk. "Fine, thanks. How are you?" I am suddenly very cheerful and also a little too loud. "Just fine. Thank you for asking." She crosses her arms over her cranberry-colored blazer and nods rhythmically at me. She has very big lips made up in the exact same cranberry, bleeding into the lines around her mouth. I nod back at her. She looks down at her watch. "So, Nanny. I'm just going to get my pad out here and we'll get started." She proceeds to mention each action as she does it until she's seated in Mrs. X's chair, pen poised. "Nanny, our objective over the course of the next forty-five minutes is to assess Grayer's perceptions and expectations. I would like you to share with me the understanding you currently hold of your role and responsibilities surrounding Grayer's critical path with regard to the next stratum of his schooling." "Okay," I say, replaying her statement in my head to locate the question. "Nanny, in your first quarter at the X residence, how would you characterize your performance in relation to Grayer's academic activity?" "Good. I mean, I was picking him up from school. But, honestly, there wasn't a lot of academic activity to-" "I see, so you do not consider yourself an active, dynamic participant in his process. How would you describe your agenda during his scheduled playtime?" "Right... Grayer really likes to play trains. Oh, and dress up. So I try to do activities that he enjoys. I wasn't aware that he had an agenda for playtime." "Do you engage him in puzzles?" "He doesn't like puzzles so much." "Math problems?" "He's a little young-" "When was the last time you practiced circles?" "I'm sure sometime in the last week we had the crayons out-" "Do you play the Suzuki tapes?" "Only when he takes a bath." "Have you been reading to him from the Wall Street Journal?" "Well, actually-" "The Economist.7" "Not really-" "The Financial Times?" "Should I be?" She sighs heavily and scribbles furiously on her pad. She begins again. "How many bilingual meals are you serving him a week?" "We speak French on Tuesday night, but I usually serve veggieburgers." "And you are attending the Guggenheim on what basis?" "We go to the Museum of Natural History-he loves the rocks." "What methodology are you following to dress him?" "He picks out his clothes or Mrs. X does. As long as he'll be comfortable-" "You don't utilize an Apparel Chart, then?" "Not really-" "And I suppose you are not documenting his choices with him on a Closet Diagram." "Yeah, no." "Nor are you having him translate his color and sizes into the Latin." "Maybe later this year." She looks back at me and nods for a while. I shift in my seat and smile. She leans across the desk and takes off her glasses. "Nanny, I'm going to have to raise a flag here." "Okay." I lean in to meet her. "I have to question whether you're leveraging your assets to escalate Grayer's performance." Having let the cat out of the bag, she leans back and rests her hands in her lap. I sense that I should feel insulted. 'Leverage my assets?' Umm, anyone? "I'm sorry to hear that," I say earnestly, as the one thing abundantly clear is that I should be feeling sorry. "Nanny, I understand you are getting your degree in arts-in-edu-cation so, frankly, I'm surprised by the lack of depth surrounding your knowledge base here." Okay, now I know I'm insulted. "Well, Jane." She straightens at the sound of her name. "I am trained to work with children who have far fewer resources at their disposal than Grayer." "I see, so you don't perceive this opportunity to be in an arena in which you are a value-add." What? "I want to add value to Grayer, but he's really stressed out right now-" She looks skeptically at me. "Stressed?" "Yes, he's stressed. And I feel-and I am only an undergrad here, Jane, so I'm sure you'll take this with a grain of salt-the best thing I can give him is some downtime so that his imagination can grow without being forced in one direction or another." Blood rushes to my face and I know I've gone too far, but being made to feel like an idiot by yet another middle-aged woman in this office is just a bit more than I can handle.