The door came open and the Sitter stood there, poised and beautiful and not the least surprised. It was, he thought, almost as if it had been expecting him.
And the other two of them, he saw, were sitting by the fireplace.
“Won’t you please come in?” the Sitter said. “We are so glad you decided to come back. The children all are gone. We can have a cozy chat.”
He came in and sat down in the chair again and perched the hat carefully on one knee.
Once again the children were running in the room and there was the sense of timelessness and the sound of laughter.
He sat and nodded, thinking, while the Sitters waited.
It was hard, he thought. Hard to make the words come right.
He felt again as he had felt many years ago, when the teacher had called upon him to recite in the second grade.
They were waiting, but they were patient; they would give him time.
He had to say it right. He must make them understand.
He couldn’t blurt it out. It must be made to sound natural, and logical as well.
And how, he asked himself, could he make it logical?
There was nothing logical at all in men as old as he and Stuffy needing baby-sitters.