"Hey, I don't know him! Where'd he come from?"
The girl, Janie, said, "Lookit his clothes. Lookit. They're different."
The children wore loose tunics, pastel-tinted, to their knees. Freckle-Face said: "You know what today is, doncha?"
George frowned. "Yeah, holiday. We're off from school."
"What holiday, stupid? Which one?"
"I—I dunno."
"Lazzy-day!" Janie cried. "That's what it is. Then he's—he's—"
"Lazarus!" Freckle-Face told her, and, as if on one impulse, the three of them bolted away from Eric, disappeared through another doorway.
He did not follow them. He stood there, waiting, and before long he heard footsteps returning. A man entered the room, tall, thin, middle-aged.
"You are Eric Taine," he said, smiling. "I'm sorry no one was around to greet you, but the way we had it figured, you wouldn't come out till later this afternoon. History says that's how it worked with the six before you, about four P.M. It's just noon now. Will you follow me, please?"