"Beware famous last words!" panted Mr. Lynn. "Not true. Think of the way you spotted the heroes." As they came near the barrier, he stopped almost dead. Polly thought she heard him say, "Famous last words indeed!" She looked round to ask what he meant and saw Mr. Leroy coming through the crowds toward them with long, impatient steps.

Mr. Leroy was wearing a coat with a fur collar which made him look both rich and important, and he was holding a rolled umbrella out before him, slanted slightly downward. "I don't want to hurt you with this, so get out of my way!" the umbrella said, and people obeyed it. With Mr. Leroy there was a smaller person in a sheepskin jacket. It took Polly an instant or so to realize that the second person was Seb-Seb about a foot taller than when she last saw him. In that instant Mr. Leroy's umbrella had cleared every other person out of the way and he was standing looking at Mr. Lynn. "I have you now!" said the look in the dark-pouched eyes, angry, triumphant, and accusing. The things Polly had overheard in Hunsdon House came out from hiding at the side of her mind when she saw that look, and she felt sick.

"Well, fancy meeting you here, Tom!" said Mr. Leroy. The friendly surprise did not go with his look at all.

"h.e.l.lo, Morton," Mr. Lynn said. Polly wondered how he could take it so calmly. "Are you going down to Middleton?"

"No. I'm just putting Seb on the train after his half-term," Mr. Leroy said. "I a.s.sume you're doing the same with-" the dark pouches under his eyes moved as he looked at Polly-"this young lady."

Polly had an idea that Seb was looking at her too, rather consideringly, but when she tore her eyes away from Mr. Leroy to make sure, Seb was staring scornfully at a bookstall.

"Yes I am," said Mr. Lynn. "And she's going to miss the train if she doesn't go now."

"Seb can look after her," said Mr. Leroy. "Got your ticket, Seb?"

"Yes," Seb said.

"Off you both run, then," said Mr. Leroy. "I can see the guard getting ready to signal. Hurry."

Mr. Lynn said, "Bye, Polly. Better run," and gave her a firm, friendly smile. Seb glanced at the air above Polly, jerked his head to say "Come on," and set off at a trot toward the ticket barrier. There was nothing Polly could do but call "Goodbye!" to Mr. Lynn over her shoulder as she ran after Seb. The train really was just about to go.

They caught the train by getting on the nearest end as it started to move. Then they had to walk down it to find seats. Polly expected Seb to lose her at this point, since he had done what his father wanted. But he stuck close behind her the whole way down the crowded train. Polly felt trapped. And she was horribly worried about Mr. Lynn. They found two seats facing one another. As Polly squeezed into one and watched Seb sit down opposite her, she was wondering if she would ever see Mr. Lynn again.

To her surprise, Seb said quite cheerfully, "Did you have a good time in London? I did."

Polly jumped rather. She had not expected him to speak. He had looked so fed up at being put in charge of her. But because he had spoken so cheerfully, she found herself replying, equally cheerfully, "Yes. Lovely, thanks." Hearing herself, she went into a silent panic. Quite apart from the fact that Seb was guarding her, she had not the least idea what you talked about to boys of fifteen. At Manor Road no boy that age would be seen dead talking to a First Year girl. "I-er-I saw the Tower of London," she said lamely.

"I was there yesterday," said Seb. "Cigarette?"

"N-no, thanks," Polly stammered, and watched with awe while Seb took out a packet of cigarettes and a silver lighter and lit himself a cigarette. It was all the more awesome because he was sitting beside a no smoking sign on the train window. She could feel her eyes going wide and round.

"My father objects," Seb said, blowing lines of smoke like a dragon. "You don't, do you?"

"Oh no," said Polly.

"Good place, London," Seb said. "Better than school."

"Yes," said Polly.

That seemed to bring the conversation to an end. Polly thought she was relieved. But it seemed so awkward just to sit there that she began to feel compelled to say something else. But what? The only things she wanted to say were to ask about Mr. Lynn and why Mr. Leroy did not want him to see her. She was sure Seb knew why. But she did not dare. It was maddening. She seemed far more afraid of Seb now than she was when she was ten. Perhaps if I could get him talking first about something else, she thought, I could lead round to it. But what did did you say? She scrambled round inside her head, rooting in odd corners forsomething-anything!-she could say, and suddenly she came upon her secret visit to Hunsdon House. It dawned on her that she had a guilty inside view on Seb. "Which pop groups do you like?" she asked, in the greatest relief. you say? She scrambled round inside her head, rooting in odd corners forsomething-anything!-she could say, and suddenly she came upon her secret visit to Hunsdon House. It dawned on her that she had a guilty inside view on Seb. "Which pop groups do you like?" she asked, in the greatest relief.

"Doors. Pity their singer's dead," said Seb. "Do you know Doors?" Polly did not, but it did not matter. Seb told her. He talked all the rest of the way to Middleton, and all Polly was able to do was nod and listen. She never got a chance to ask anything. Before long she was glad she had put her question the way she did. The posters on Seb's walls were the groups he had liked last year, and he told her he was sick of them now. He still liked Michael Moorc.o.c.k, he said, but this turned out to be a writer. "Great stuff," Seb told Polly. "You should read him."

By the end of the journey Polly was finding Seb almost agreeable. He looked much nicer when he smiled. His laugh was like Mr. Leroy's, but lower and more grating, which made it, to Polly's mind, much less fatal. A sort of elegant churring, really, she thought. And it was flattering that he did not seem to mind talking to her.

The train drew into Middleton. As they got up to get off, Seb said, "There's a disco at my school at the end of term. You could come, if you're interested."

Polly was so fl.u.s.tered at this that she said, "I'd love to!" and then wondered what had made her say it.

Seb said he would let her know when it was. They got off the train and walked out of the station together, into the dark and windy forecourt. Seb stopped near the fountain thing in the middle. "See here," he said quite kindly. "I warned you off a year and a half ago. You didn't take the blindest bit of notice, did you?"

This shook Polly exceedingly. By this time she had begun to believe that Seb had forgotten who she was. "No, I didn't," she said. "But you hadn't any right to, anyway!"

"You should have listened," said Seb. "You've got my father angry now, and he can be quite vile when he's angry. You'd better be careful from now on. Very careful. That's all. Want me to walk home with you?"

"No thanks," said Polly. "See you." It was a long way home from Miles Cross, but she ran all the way. It was a relief to find that Ivy and David were out when she got there. She did not feel like talking.

About a week later Mr. Lynn telephoned. Polly had got used to taking messages for David Bragge, and she answered the phone in the way she had invented to make it less boring. "Good evening," she said in a silly squeak. Then, making her voice go deep and booming, "Whittacker residence here, and Bragge lodging." evening," she said in a silly squeak. Then, making her voice go deep and booming, "Whittacker residence here, and Bragge lodging."

"Good Lord!" said Mr. Lynn. "Is that what it is? Miss Jeeves, would you be so good as to tell Hero that Tan Coul wishes to speak to her?"

"Oh it's you you!" shouted Polly, and found she was blushing at the telephone. "I thought it was-Are you all right? Really all right?"

"Very well, thank you," Mr. Lynn said in his polite way. But he was upset. Polly could hear he was. She clenched her teeth and half shut her eyes, thinking of all the things she had imagined Mr. Leroy doing to Mr. Lynn. "Polly, do you remember us discussing selling a picture?"

"Yes." Polly's conscience gave her a guilty jab somewhere in the middle of her chest.

"One of the ones you helped me choose," Mr. Lynn said, causing Polly another jab, "and I told you it turned out to be a Pica.s.so. Well, it seems that we somehow got all the wrong ones. They've just found out. Laurel's been on to me, and Morton Leroy, and they're trying to trace the one I sold to buy the horse. Of course I've had to give the Pica.s.so back-"

Oh no! thought Polly. This is Mr. Leroy's revenge. "Do they want my fire-and-cow-parsley one too?" she asked, with a further guilty jab because of the stolen photograph hidden upstairs in the cistern cupboard.

"They haven't mentioned that one yet," Mr. Lynn said. "It's a photograph, so maybe it isn't as valuable as the others. I won't say anything about it unless they ask."

"Thank you," said Polly. Then, because of her relief, her mind turned round to see Mr. Lynn's point of view. "Does that mean you won't have any money to start your quartet with?"

"I'm afraid not," Mr. Lynn said rather colorlessly.

"All the pictures?" said Polly. "The Chinese horse and the musicians too?" the pictures?" said Polly. "The Chinese horse and the musicians too?"

"I can keep those two on condition I don't sell them. But I've had to give the carnival picture back with the clowns. It's fair enough. It was a mistake-"

But after all this time time! Polly thought. She interrupted fiercely. "You're not not going to stop doing your quartet! Not now you've decided! You mustn't!" going to stop doing your quartet! Not now you've decided! You mustn't!"

"Thank you for saying that," said Mr. Lynn. "That's why I rang really. I am am going on with it. The others have said they'll risk it. But it means I'm going to be very occupied for quite some time, trying to get people to listen to us, and I'm not going to have time to see you, or think of hero business, or even write very much. I'm sorry." going on with it. The others have said they'll risk it. But it means I'm going to be very occupied for quite some time, trying to get people to listen to us, and I'm not going to have time to see you, or think of hero business, or even write very much. I'm sorry."

"I see," Polly said miserably. "This is a goodbye call."

"Oh no, no, no!" said Mr. Lynn, but she could see it was, even though he added, "By the way, do you think an Obah Cypt is a sort of container of some kind? I see it as a small jeweled phial."

"A little vase with a lid," said Polly. "Carved out of one precious stone and worth a king's ransom. It may be. What's in it, though?"

"Something even more valuable, obviously. The water of life? The key to all knowledge?"

"Not quite. I'll work on it," said Polly. "Is Michael Moorc.o.c.k any good?"

"We-ell," said Mr. Lynn. "You may prefer Asimov. I'll see you. For the moment you'll have to think of me as away on a quest for an audience."

Polly put the phone down, full of stony, Ivy-like anger. Curses Curses upon Mr. Leroy! A very civilized revenge. He had stopped her seeing Mr. Lynn and punished Mr. Lynn for seeing her, all in one neat sweep. She knew she had broken the rules by seeing Mr. Lynn, which was what allowed Mr. Leroy his revenge. But it seemed so hard and horrible that her wrongdoing over the pictures should rebound on Mr. Lynn. upon Mr. Leroy! A very civilized revenge. He had stopped her seeing Mr. Lynn and punished Mr. Lynn for seeing her, all in one neat sweep. She knew she had broken the rules by seeing Mr. Lynn, which was what allowed Mr. Leroy his revenge. But it seemed so hard and horrible that her wrongdoing over the pictures should rebound on Mr. Lynn.

"I'll do something to Mr. Leroy one of these days," she said to herself. "Something quite legal this time, but quite awful." Then she went sadly upstairs and tried to read the book of fairy stories. "Cinderella! How stupid!" Polly turned to the next story, but instead of reading it, raised her head to look at the clown picture in her mind's eye. She could see it clearly. A man clown and a boy clown standing on a beach, rather dejectedly, so that they seemed gawky and lumpish in their pink-and-blue Harlequin clothes. Things had gone wrong for them. They could have been a hero and his a.s.sistant in disguise.

Resolutely Polly put her head down again and found herself looking at a story called "East of the Sun and West of the Moon." The t.i.tle made her blink and think a bit. "It could could be a way of saying Nowhere," she said aloud, doubtfully. She read it, but she could not find the one true fact Mr. Lynn had a.s.sured her would be there. The girl in the story was carried off by a man who was under a spell which made him a bear in the daytime. He warned her never to look at him when he was a man, but she did. Then of course he vanished to marry a princess, and she had a terrible job getting him back. Pointless, to Polly's mind. The girl had only herself to blame for her troubles. She was told not to do a thing and she did. And she cried so much. Polly despised her. be a way of saying Nowhere," she said aloud, doubtfully. She read it, but she could not find the one true fact Mr. Lynn had a.s.sured her would be there. The girl in the story was carried off by a man who was under a spell which made him a bear in the daytime. He warned her never to look at him when he was a man, but she did. Then of course he vanished to marry a princess, and she had a terrible job getting him back. Pointless, to Polly's mind. The girl had only herself to blame for her troubles. She was told not to do a thing and she did. And she cried so much. Polly despised her.

4.

The truth IIl tell thee, Janet; In no word will I lie TAM LIN.

Seb's disco haunted Polly. Of all the things which were coming to light in this second buried set of memories, Polly was most astonished to find how things to do with Seb had haunted her from then on. At that time it was the disco. Polly did not know how to dance, and she was terrified. When school started again, she was forced to consult Nina, who had just developed a craze for disco dancing. Nina took her home and instructed her. And in this way she became friends with Nina again. Nina knew about Michael Moorc.o.c.k as well. She gave Polly a paperback to read. Polly did not quite get on with it. She suspected she was too young. She thought she was probably too young for discos at Wilton College too, and she quaked.

But it all came to nothing. Seb must have forgotten he had asked her. At all events, the end of term came and he did not let her know. This made it rather difficult when she next saw Seb. And she kept seeing him from then on, here and there in Middleton, usually walking with tall, high-and-mighty-looking boys from Wilton College. Should she stick her nose in the air and look offended? Or smile as if nothing had happened?

In fact, Polly did both at once, in a confused way, the first time she pa.s.sed Seb. Seb replied with a sort of wave and a sort of grin, at which the other boys looked round after her and murmured things. Polly's face went scarlet.

"That makes three strange men!" said Nina, who was with Polly at the time. She did not recognize Seb. Polly was so annoyed and embarra.s.sed that she nearly stopped being friends with Nina again. Both of them were losing count of the times they had been friends and then not friends. This was another thing which astonished Polly. She had thought she had hardly spoken to Nina after Juniors, where in fact they dropped in and out of friendship so often that Nina went around explaining, "It's that kind of relationship, you know."

Whatever Nina thought that meant, Polly thought the real reason was that she and Nina were always getting out of step with one another, and only overlapped every so often. While Polly was catching up on discos, Nina had pa.s.sed on to her tennis craze. When Polly took up tennis, Nina had moved on to ecology. And when Nina tried to interest Polly in that, Polly had discovered The Lord of the Rings The Lord of the Rings and was reading it for the fourth time under her desk in Maths. and was reading it for the fourth time under her desk in Maths.

It was David Bragge, not Mr. Lynn, who put Polly on to Tolkien. By then Polly had got used to David's pink arms and his way of speaking. They had become quite friendly. It had started with the money for Polly's ill-fated visit to Mr. Lynn. It had gone on then because, after that, Polly had come in one day to find David roving round the kitchen like an irritated bear.

"The woman's a vampire!" he said angrily to Polly. "What does she want from life? I have to account for all my movements and every half p. these days, or she says I'm being secretive!"

"Dad let her down," Polly explained. "She wants to be happy."

David, at this, became uneasy and contrite. "Shouldn't say things to you about your mother, should I? Accept profound regrets and pretend it was never said. Right?"

"Yes, but Mum is difficult sometimes," Polly said. "When she closes down."

"Doesn't she just close down!" said David. "You're a sympathetic wench, Polly, you know. Understanding."

After that, because of her being so understanding, David took to handing Polly notes secretly, to be delivered to a certain Irishman on her way to school. Mr. O'Keefe was nearly always to be found leaning against the wall of the Rose and Crown. He always took the note with a huge wink and said, "Thank you, my darling."

"Fourth strange man!" Polly said the first time she met Mr. O'Keefe, since Nina was not there to say it for her.

David was rather anxious about this arrangement. To cover it up, he invented a game of elaborate compliments to Polly. "She's growing up so gorgeous!" he would say. "The silver-haired lovely of the eighties. What will she be like later if she's like this now? And I'm booked to be her father and give her away to some undeserving lout or other! Oh, Polly, I mourn!"

Polly supposed the compliments were meant to act like a smokescreen to distract Ivy from the notes, but they made her very uncomfortable and she wished he wouldn't. She could see they annoyed Ivy. She found she was not looking forward to the time when the divorce was at last settled and Mum and David would be able to get married.

Halfway through the summer term, a little before Polly's twelfth birthday, a packet came for her through the post. It was not a proper letter. It was something folded inside a typed wrap-round label.

"What's that?" Ivy asked as Polly tore the label off. Ivy was sitting in her dressing gown watching David eat his bacon and egg.

Polly was equally puzzled. She unfolded a medium-sized posteron rather cheap paper.

BATH FESTIVALBeethoven, Dvorak, BartokTHE DUMAS QUARTET "Junk post," said Ivy. "I'd like to know where they got your address. Throw it away, Polly."

David looked up from his dutiful eating. "It's a languishing letter from one of her numerous admirers. Eh, Polly?"

"No it isn't," Polly said, grinning. "It's from Mr. Lynn." Her eyes had found the bottom of the poster, where Mr. Lynn had scribbled, Our first decent engagement. I know I can count on you to see the joke in the name we chose. Is an Obah Cypt a kind of talisman, perhaps? T.G.L Our first decent engagement. I know I can count on you to see the joke in the name we chose. Is an Obah Cypt a kind of talisman, perhaps? T.G.L. Joke? Polly's eyes leaped to the top of the poster again. Dumas? What joke?

"David, that's not funny," said Ivy. "Who's Mr. Lynn?"

Polly sighed. "I went to see him in London-remember?" Of course! The Three Musketeers The Three Musketeers, by Alexandre (spelled wrong) Dumas. In the middle of the poster Mr. Lynn had helped her get the point by scribbling things beside the printed names. Edward Davies Edward Davies, she read, alias Tan Thare, Porthos. Samuel Rensky, alias Tan Hanivar, d'Artagnan. Ann Abraham, alias Tan Audel, Aramis. Thomas Lynn, alias Tan Coul. alias Tan Thare, Porthos. Samuel Rensky, alias Tan Hanivar, d'Artagnan. Ann Abraham, alias Tan Audel, Aramis. Thomas Lynn, alias Tan Coul. Polly smiled widely. It was a clever way to get round Mr. Leroy. The poster must have gone out in a stack of others, so that it did not look like something specially to Polly. And it was interesting to see that Mr. Lynn thought of himself as Athos too, even though he had not written it in. Polly smiled widely. It was a clever way to get round Mr. Leroy. The poster must have gone out in a stack of others, so that it did not look like something specially to Polly. And it was interesting to see that Mr. Lynn thought of himself as Athos too, even though he had not written it in.

"Oh, your musician friend," said Ivy. "School, or you'll be late."

Out of respect for the new quartet, Polly got The Three Musketeers The Three Musketeers out of the library and read it again. For a while too shekept looking in out of the library and read it again. For a while too shekept looking in Radio Times Radio Times and the morning paper, in case there was news of magnificent concerts by a brilliant new quartet now taking the country by storm. But the Dumas Quartet never seemed to get mentioned. Since Polly could think of no other way to find out how Mr. Lynn was doing, she gave up looking. She took and the morning paper, in case there was news of magnificent concerts by a brilliant new quartet now taking the country by storm. But the Dumas Quartet never seemed to get mentioned. Since Polly could think of no other way to find out how Mr. Lynn was doing, she gave up looking. She took The Three Musketeers The Three Musketeers back to the library and got out back to the library and got out The Lord of the Rings The Lord of the Rings instead, which David said was much more her kind of thing. instead, which David said was much more her kind of thing.

After she had read it for the fourth time, Polly spent the last slack week of term and the beginning of the holidays busily writing an adventure of Tan Coul and Hero, and how they hunted the Obah Cypt in the Caves of Doom, with the help of Tan Thare, Tan Hanivar, and Tan Audel. After The Lord of the Rings The Lord of the Rings it was clear to her that the Obah Cypt was really a ring which was very dangerous and had to be destroyed. Hero did this, with great courage. it was clear to her that the Obah Cypt was really a ring which was very dangerous and had to be destroyed. Hero did this, with great courage.

When it was done, she put it in an envelope and addressed it to Mr. Lynn. Then, for two days, she did nothing with it. She was scared when it came to posting it. She thought of the way Mr. Leroy had come cleaving through the crowd at the station and looked at Mr. Lynn, when there was no way he could have known they were there, and she kept going cold all over. But at last she told herself it was silly to be so scared. Mr. Leroy had turned up by accident to put Seb on the train. She went boldly out to the High Street Post Office and posted the story there.

She came out of the post office, with the deed done, and the first person she saw was Seb, walking along the other side of the street with a crowd of tall Wilton College boys. Seb, as he always did now, gave her his sort of wave and a grin, and the heads of the other boys turned as usual to see who he was waving at. Polly stood on the steps of the post office feeling like something caught in a searchlight beam. It can't be true! she thought. He must be here by accident! But she would have given a great deal to be able to reverse posting that letter, like playing a film backward, and have it zoom up out of the letterbox into her hand.

For days she waited for something awful to happen. She expected Mr. Leroy every time she ran down to the Rose and Crown with a note from David. But the trouble came from Mr. Lynn instead. A postcard came from Edinburgh. On the back of Edinburgh Castle it said, No, it's not a ring. You stole that from Tolkien. Use your own ideas. T.G.L. No, it's not a ring. You stole that from Tolkien. Use your own ideas. T.G.L.

It hurt Polly's feelings horribly. For a whole day she hoped Mr. Leroy would get get Mr. Lynn for that. For another whole day she evolved nasty schemes for getting Mr. Lynn herself, by jumping on both his cellos. She could almost feel the satisfying splintering of precious wood under her shoes. On the third day she decided to have nothing more to do with Mr. Lynn. Ever. On the fourth day she got another postcard, of St. Andrews Golf Course this time. Mr. Lynn for that. For another whole day she evolved nasty schemes for getting Mr. Lynn herself, by jumping on both his cellos. She could almost feel the satisfying splintering of precious wood under her shoes. On the third day she decided to have nothing more to do with Mr. Lynn. Ever. On the fourth day she got another postcard, of St. Andrews Golf Course this time. Sorry, Sorry, it said. it said. I was v. tired in my last. Damaged my good cello. Forgive criticism, but you used to have much better ideas on your own. T.G.L. I was v. tired in my last. Damaged my good cello. Forgive criticism, but you used to have much better ideas on your own. T.G.L.

When she read about that damaged cello, Polly's mind jolted and flew to Seb pa.s.sing in the street. She was appalled. I think that was my fault! she thought. But how can can it be? She waited two days, to give Mr. Lynn time to get home to London, and then telephoned his flat. It was next to impossible, she thought as she dialed the number, for Seb to appear accidentally, or even on purpose, inside the hall of her own house. it be? She waited two days, to give Mr. Lynn time to get home to London, and then telephoned his flat. It was next to impossible, she thought as she dialed the number, for Seb to appear accidentally, or even on purpose, inside the hall of her own house.

Mr. Lynn's voice spoke. "This is a recorded message," it said like a robot. "Thomas Lynn is away on business with the Dumas Quartet. If you have a message, please give it after this recording stops. Speak on the tone." There followed a click, and a sharp beeping.

"Oh. Er," said Polly, totally disconcerted. "Um. Er. This is Polly. I just wanted to say sorry too. About the cello." Then she could simply think of no more to say. She put down the telephone, feeling cheated and incomplete. She stood. Then she turned round, threw open the front door, and looked up and down the street. It was empty. There was no sign of Seb. She seemed to have got away with it.

Mr. Lynn did not reply. Instead, before Polly had time to get hurt again, a parcel of books arrived from Edinburgh. There was no letter, just a piece of paper from the bookshop, saying in print: Sent at the request of Sent at the request of then a gap for the name, which someone had filled then a gap for the name, which someone had filled in as Mr. T. Geeling Mr. T. Geeling. It made Polly giggle, both for itself and because they were both thinking of ways to cheat Mr. Leroy. The books were all secondhand: Kipling's Kim, The War of the Worlds Kim, The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells, by H. G. Wells, The Man Who Was Thursday The Man Who Was Thursday by G. K. Chesterton, and by G. K. Chesterton, and Perilandra Perilandra by C. S. Lewis. by C. S. Lewis.

That was the first of any number of parcels, from all over the country, sent under all sorts of versions of Mr. Lynn's name. The Napoleon of Notting Hill The Napoleon of Notting Hill from Hereford, from T. O. Ma.s.sling, from Hereford, from T. O. Ma.s.sling, The Thirty-nine Steps The Thirty-nine Steps from Oxford, from Mr. Tomlin, from Oxford, from Mr. Tomlin, Tom's Midnight Garden Tom's Midnight Garden from Birmingham, from A. Namesake, and from Birmingham, from A. Namesake, and The Oxford Book of Ballads The Oxford Book of Ballads from Salisbury, apparently from a Chinese person called Lee Tin. And numbers more. All through those summer holidays and the autumn term that followed, parcels of books for Polly kept on coming. It seemed as if every time Mr. Lynn arrived in a new place, almost his first act was to find a bookshop and get it to send Polly books under some idiotic new name. from Salisbury, apparently from a Chinese person called Lee Tin. And numbers more. All through those summer holidays and the autumn term that followed, parcels of books for Polly kept on coming. It seemed as if every time Mr. Lynn arrived in a new place, almost his first act was to find a bookshop and get it to send Polly books under some idiotic new name.

The only trouble was that all Polly seemed to be able to do in return was to ring up the robot machine in London and tell it, "Um. Er. Polly. Um. Thanks." And to read the books, of course.

5.

But aye she grips and holds him fast TAM LIN.

School started again in the autumn, with Polly and Nina both feeling very mature and Second Yearish. This was the term that Nina discovered Doors-and made Polly look nervously over her shoulder for Seb every time Nina talked about them. Nina's parents did not care for Doors either, or any of the other groups Nina listened to. They decided that Nina's tastes were getting corrupted, and contrived somehow to push her into acting. Polly always wondered how they did it. Probably it was because they were friendly with Mr. Herring, who ran the school Drama Society. ButPolly was fairly certain that Nina had only agreed to join the Drama Society on condition that she got a star part.