"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 you know 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 framish again! 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 about his 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 gonna remember he went on a trip." The boy's hands shook Jonathan's arm eagerly. "Please, Daddy! Can I go with him?"
"No!" Jonathan glared and released his hold on Richie. Didn't he have troubles enough without Richie suggesting—"About the nursery," he said 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 where Allavarg came from?"