"No spanking." Jonathan glanced at the Easton notes, vaguely aware
that Richie had suddenly relaxed. "What I'm going to do," he went on,
"is say some words. It'll be a kind of game. I'll say a word and then
you say a word. You say the first word you think after you hear my
word. Okay?" He cleared his throat. "Okay! The first word is--house."
"_My_ house."
"Bird," said Jonathan.
"Uh--tree." Richie scratched his nose and stifled a yawn.
* * * * *
Disappointed, Jonathan reminded himself that Richie at six could not
be expected to remember something he had said when he was three.
"Dog."
"Biffy." Richie sat up straight. "Daddy, did you know Biffy had
puppies? Steve's mother showed me. Biffy had four puppies, Daddy.
_Four_!"
Jonathan nodded. He supposed Richie's next statement would be an
appeal to go next door and negotiate for one of the pups, and he
hurried on with, "Carooms."
"Friends," said Richie, eyes still shining. "Daddy, do you suppose we
could 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 relaxed
again in the big chair. From somewhere in the back of his mind,
Jonathan heard Margery say, "Sometimes I think they're a different
species altogether." He kept his voice low and casual, uncertain of
what he was thinking, but aware of the fact that Richie was hiding
something. The little mantel clock ticked drowsily, and Richie began
to 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. "I
mean _Steve_."