Neither the Raymonds nor Dora noticed that they had moved in; they came so quietly. The houses in the court were furnished and they must have paid the rent, obtained the keys, and walked in, all settled as soon as they closed the door behind them. It wasn't until they rang the Raymonds' doorbell in the early evening that anyone in the household was aware of them.
"We move next door," one of them said brightly to Helen when she answered the door. "We come see you, get acquainted. We come in?"
"Of course," Helen said, and they trooped in. "We're the Raymonds, and this is my cousin, Dora Hastings."
The new neighbor who had spoken first pointed to her companions, one by one. "Patricia Pontiac," she said. "Clara Ford. Mary Maroon. Me," poking a thumb at her own midriff, "Jack Jones."
"Jack Jones?" Helen repeated. "That's a man's name."
"Man?" the girl asked blankly.
"Man!" Robert said impatiently. "Like me."
The four girls noticed him for the first time, and then they saw Bobby. They stared at the two of them, their mouths slightly open, their eyes wide with horror. They drew closer to each other, as if for protection, and shivered.
Robert and Bobby looked at each other in bewildered embarrassment.
"My husband and son," Helen said tartly. Did these odd creatures think all males were wolves, including eight-year-old Bobby?