"Benji," said Daisy, staring blankly at the machine.
"Daisy," said the leftover Benji, walking toward her. The sound of sirens outside sounded loud and louder—and then moaned to a stop in front of the house.
"Benji," Daisy said again, giving me and the sirens about as much attention as an individual ant gets at a family picnic, "Benji, it was true then! All that you were telling me about going through time was true! And we can—"
"Of course, sweet. I told you I'd be with you, that everything will be all right, with good old Bull to help us. What time have you, Bull?"
"Hah?" I was dazed.
"The time? What time is it?"
"It's just about seven. But—"
Heavy footsteps pounded up the front stairs and across the porch. The front door knocker thundered.
"Bull," said Benji, "Bull, old friend. I think there may be someone at the door. Would you see who it is?"