"Carooms."
"Friends," said Richie, eyes still shining. "Daddy, do you suppose wecould have a pup--" He broke off at the look on Jonathan's face."Huh?"
"Friends," repeated Jonathan, writing the word slowly and unsteadily."Uh--vacation."
"Beach," said Richie cautiously, still looking scared.
Jonathan went on with more familiar terms and Richie slowly relaxedagain in the big chair. From somewhere in the back of his mind,Jonathan heard Margery say, "Sometimes I think they're a differentspecies altogether." He kept his voice low and casual, uncertain ofwhat he was thinking, but aware of the fact that Richie was hidingsomething. The little mantel clock ticked drowsily, and Richie beganto look sleepy and bored as they went through things like "car" and"school" and "book." Then--
"Friend," said Jonathan.
"Allavarg," yawned Richie. "No!" He snapped to, alert and wary. "Imean _Steve_."
His father looked up sharply. "What's that?"
"What?" asked Richie.
"Richie," said Jonathan, "what's a Caroom?"
The boy shrugged and muttered, "_I_ dunno."
"Oh, yes, you do!" Jonathan lit a cigarette. "What's an Allavarg?" Hewatched the boy bite his lips and stare out the window. "He's afriend, isn't he?" coaxed Jonathan. "_Your_ friend? Does he play withyou?"
The blond head nodded slowly and uncertainly.
"Where does he live?" persisted Jonathan. "Does he come over here andplay in your yard? Does he, Richie?"
The boy stared at his father, worried and unhappy. "Sometimes," hewhispered. "Sometimes he does, if I call him."
"How do you call him?" asked Jonathan. He was beginning to feelfoolish.
"Why," said Richie, "I just say 'Here, Allavarg!' and he comes, ifhe's not too busy."
"What keeps him busy?" Such nonsense! Allavarg was undoubtedly animaginary playmate. This whole hunch of his was utter nonsense. Heshould be at work on Easton instead of--
"The nursery keeps him busy," said Richie. "Real busy."
* * * * *
Jonathan frowned. Did Richie mean the greenhouse down the road? Wasthere a Mr. Allavarg who worked there? "Whose nursery?"
"Ours." Richie wrinkled his face thoughtfully. "I think I better gooutside and play."
"_Our_ nursery?" Jonathan stared at his son. "Where is it?"
"I think I better go play," said Richie more firmly, sliding off thechair.
"Richard! _Where_ is the nursery?"
The full lower lip began to tremble. "I can't tell you!" Richiewailed. "I promised!"
Jonathan slammed his fist on the desk. "Answer me!" He knew heshouldn't speak this way to Richie; he knew he was frightening theboy. But the ideas racing through his mind drove him to find out whatthis was all about. It might be nothing, but it also might be--"Answerme, Richard!"
The child stifled a sob. "Here," he said weakly.
"_Here_? Where?"
"In my house," said Richie. "And Steve's house and Billy's and allover." He rubbed his eyes, leaving a grimy smear.
"All right," soothed Jonathan. "It's all right now, son. Daddy didn'tmean to scare you. Daddy has to learn these things, that's all. Justlike learning in school."
The boy shook his head resentfully. "_You_ know," he accused. "Youjust forgot."
"What did I forget, Richie?"
"You forgot all about Allavarg. He told me! It was a differentAllavarg when you were little, but it was almost the same. You used toplay with _your_ Allavarg when you were little like me!"
Jonathan took a deep breath. "Where did Allavarg come from, Richie?"
But Richie shook his head stubbornly, lips pressed tight. "Ipromised!"
"Richie, a promise like that isn't a good one," pleaded Jonathan."Allavarg wouldn't want you to disobey your father and mother, wouldhe?"
The child sat and stared at him.
This was a very disturbing thought and Jonathan could see Richie didnot know how to deal with it.
He pressed his momentary advantage. "Allavarg takes care of littleboys and girls, doesn't he? He plays with them and he looks afterthem, I'll bet."
Richie nodded uncertainly.
"And," continued Jonathan, smiling what he hoped was a winning,comradely smile at his son, "I'll bet that Allavarg came from someplace far, far away, didn't he?"
"Yes," said Richie softly.
"And it's his job to be here and look after the--the nursery?"Jonathan bit his lip. Nursery? Earth? Carooms--Martians? His headbegan to ache. "Son, you've got to help me understand. Do you--do youmurv me?"
* * * * *
Richie shook his head. "No. But I _will_ after--"
"After what?"
"After I grow up."
"Why not now?" asked Jonathan.
The blond head sank lower. "Because you framish, Daddy."
His father nodded, trying to look wise, wincing inwardly as hepictured his colleagues listening in on this conversation. "Well--whydon't you help me so I _don't_ framish?"
"I can't." Richie glanced up, his eyes stricken. "Some day, Allavargsays, _I'm_ going to framish, too!"
"Grow up, you mean?" hazarded Jonathan, and this time his smile wasreal as he looked at the smudged eyes and soft round cheeks. "Why,Richie," he went on, his voice suddenly husky, "it's fun to be alittle boy, but there'll be lots to do when you grow up. You--"
"I wish I was Mr. Easton!" Richie said fiercely.
Jonathan held his breath. "What about Mr. Easton?"
Richie squirmed out of the chair and clutched Jonathan's arm. "Please,Daddy! If you let Mr. Easton go back, can I go, too? Please? Can I?"
Jonathan put his hands on his son's shoulders. "Richie! What do youknow about Mr. Easton?"
"Please? Can I go with him?" The shining blue eyes pleaded up at him."If you don't let him go back pretty soon, he's going to framishagain! Please! Can I?"
"He's going to framish," nodded Jonathan. "And what then?" he coaxed."What'll happen after he framishes? Will he be able to tell me abouthis trip?"
"_I_ dunno," said Richie. "I dunno how he _could_. After you framish,you don't remember lots of things. I don't think he's even gonnaremember he _went_ on a trip." The boy's hands shook Jonathan's armeagerly. "Please, Daddy! Can I go with him?"
"No!" Jonathan glared and released his hold on Richie. Didn't he havetroubles enough without Richie suggesting--"About the nursery," hesaid briskly. "Why is there a nursery?"
"To take care of us." Richie looked worried. "Why can't I go?"
"Because you can't! Why don't they have the nursery back whereAllavarg came from?"
"There isn't any room." The blue eyes studied the man, looking for away to get permission to go with Mr. Easton.
"No room? What do you mean?"
Richie sighed. Obviously he'd have to explain first and coax later."Well, you know my school? You know my teacher in school? You knowwhen my teacher was different?" He peered anxiously at Jonathan, andsuddenly the man caught on.
"Of course! You mean when they split the kindergarten into two smallergroups because there were too many--"
* * * * *
His voice trailed off. Too many. Too many what? Too many Martians onMars? Growing population? No way to cut down the birth rate? Hepictured the planet with too many people. What to do? Move out. Takeanother planet. Why didn't they just do that? He put the question toRichie.
"Oh," said his son wisely, "they couldn't because of the framish. They_did_ go other places, but everywhere they went, they framished. Andafter you framish, you ain't--_aren't_ a Caroom any more. You're aGunderguck and of course--"
"Huh?"
"--and a Caroom doesn't like to framish and be a Gunderguck,"continued Richie happily, as though reciting a lesson learned inschool. "He wants to be a Caroom _all_ the time because it's betterand more fun and you know lots of things you don't remember after youget to be a Gunderguck. Only--" he paused for a gulp of air--"onlythere wasn't room for _all_ the
Carooms back home and they couldn'tfind any place where they could be Carooms all the time, because
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