just stared for a moment. Then he was turning it, and exploring in it, head hidden, hefting the weight of it, flexing a piece of its ripped metal. Then he lounged against the gray boulder and lipped thoughtfully at a dry cluster of pine needles.
“Let’s live dangerously,” he said, “and assert that this is the How that Lala arrived in our vicinity last night. Let us further assert that it has no earthly origin. Therefore, let us, madly but positively, assert that this is a Space capsule of some sort and Lala is an extra-terrestrial.”
“You mean,” gasped Meris, “that Lala is a little green man! And that this is a flying saucer?”
“Well, yes,” said Mark. “Inexact, but it conveys the general idea.”
“But, Mark! She’s just a baby. She couldn’t possibly have traveled all that distance alone-“
“I’d say also that she couldn’t have traveled all that distance in this vehicle, either,” said Mark. “Point one, I don’t see anything resembling a motor or a fuel container or even a steering device. Point two, there are no provisions of any kind-water or food-or even any evidence of an air supply.”
“Then?” said Meris, deftly fielding Lala from the edge of the creek.
“I’d say-only as a guess—that this is a sort of lifeboat in case of a wreck. I’d say something happened in the storm last night and here’s Lala, Castaway.”
“Where did you come from, baby dear?” chanted Meris to the wiggly Lala. “The heavens opened and you were here?”
“They’ll be looking for her,” said Mark, “whoever her people are. Which means they’ll be looking for us.” He looked at Meris and smiled. “How does it feel, Mrs. Edwards, to be Looked For by denizens of Outer Space?”
“Should we try to find them?” asked Meris. “Should we call the sheriff?”
“I don’t think so,” said Mark. “Let’s wait a day or so. They’ll find her. I’m sure of it. Anyone who had a Lala would comb the whole state, inch by inch, until they found her.”
He caught up Lala and tossed her, squealing, into the air. For the next ten minutes Mark and Meris were led a merry chase trying to get Lala down out of the trees! Out of the sky! She finally fluttered down into Meris’s arms and patted her cheek with a puzzled remark of some kind:
“I suppose,” said Mark, taking a relieved breath, “that she’s wondering how come we didn’t chase her up there. Well, small one, you’re our duckling. Don’t laugh at our unwebbed feet.”
That evening Meris. sat rocking a drowsy-eyed Lala to sleep. She reached to tuck the blanket closer about the small bare feet, but instead cradled one foot in her hand. “You know what, Mark?” she said softly. “It’s just dawned on me what you were saying about Lala. You were saying that this foot might have walked on another world! It just doesn’t seem possible!”
“Well, try this thought, then.” Mark pushed back from his desk, stretching widely and yawning. “If that world was very far away or their speed not too fast, that foot may never have touched a world anywhere. She may have been born en route.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Meris, “she knows too much about-about-things for that to be so. She knew to look in water for that-that vehicle of hers and she knew to wash her doll in running water and to spread clothes in the sun to dry. If she’d lived her life in Space-“
“Hmm!” Mark tapped his mouth with his pencil. “You could be right, but there might be other explanations for her knowledge. But then, maybe the real explanation of Lala is a very pedestrian one.” He smiled at her unbelieving smile and went back to work.
Meris was awake again in the dark. She stretched comfortably and smiled. How wonderful to be able to awaken in the dark and smile instead of slipping inevitably into the aching endless grief and despair. How pleasant to be able to listen to Mark’s deep breathing and Lala’s little murmur as she turned on the camp cot beside the bed. How warm and relaxing the flicker of firelight from the cast- iron stove patterning ceiling and walls dimly. She yawned and stopped in mid-stretch. What was that? Was that what had wakened her?
There was a guarded thump on the porch, a fumbling at the door, an audible breath and then, “Mr. Edwards! Are you there?” The voice was a forced whisper.
Meris’s hand closed on Mark’s shoulder. He shrugged away in his sleep, but as her lingers tightened, he came wide awake, listening.
“Mr. Edwards!”
“Someone for Lala!” Meris gasped and reached toward the sleeping child.
“No,” said Mark. “It’s Tad Winstel.” He lifted his voice.
“Just a minute, Tad!” There was a muffled cry at the door and then silence. Mark padded barefoot to the door, blinking as he snapped the lights on, and, unlatching the door, swung it open. “Come on in, fellow, and close the door. It’s cold.” He shivered back for his jacket and sneakers.
Tad slipped in and stood awkwardly thin and lanky by the door, hugging his arms to himself convulsively. Mark opened the stove and added a solid chunk of oak.
“What brings you here at this hour?” he asked calmly.
Tad shivered. “It isn’t you, then,” he said, “but it’s bad trouble. You told me that gang was no good to mess around with. Now I know it. Can they hang me for just being there?” His voice was very young and shaken.
“Come over here and get warm,” said Mark. “For being where?”
“In the car when it killed the guy.”
“Killed!” Mark fumbled the black lid-lifter. “What happened?”
“We were out in that Porsche of Rick’s, just tearing around seeing how fast it could take that winding road on the other side of Sheep’s Bluff.” Tad gulped. “They called me chicken because I got scared. And I am! I saw Mr. Stegemeir after his pickup went off the road by the fish hatchery last year and I-I can’t help remembering it. Well, anyway-” His voice broke off and he gulped. “Well, they made such good time that they got to feeling pretty wild and decided to come over on this road and-” His eyes dropped away from Mark’s and his feet moved apologetically. “They wanted to find some way to get back at you again.”
