“It’s a Nanny!” Bobby cried.

“It’s a huge, huge Nanny!”

In the crate the great black shape lay quietly, like an enormous metal tortoise, encased in a coating of grease. Carefully checked, oiled, and fully guaranteed. Tom nodded. “That’s right. It’s a Nanny, a new Nanny. To take the place of the old one.”

“For us?”

“Yes.” Tom sat down in a nearby chair and lit a cigarette. “Tomorrow morning we’ll turn her on and warm her up. See how she runs.”

The children’s eyes were like saucers. Neither of them could breathe or speak.

“But this time,” Mary said, “you must stay away from the park. Don’t take her near the park. You hear?”

“No,” Tom contradicted. “They can go in the park.”

Mary glanced uncertainly at him. “But that orange thing might—”

Tom smiled grimly. “It’s fine with me if they go into the park.” He leaned toward Bobby and Jean. “You kids go into the park any time you want. And don’t be afraid of anything. Of anything or anyone. Remember that.”

He kicked the end of the massive crate with his toe.

“There isn’t anything in the world you have to be afraid of. Not anymore.”

Bobby and Jean nodded, still gazing fixedly into the crate.

“All right, Daddy,” Jean breathed.

“Boy, look at her!” Bobby whispered. “Just look at her! I can hardly wait till tomorrow!”

Mrs. Andrew Casworthy greeted her husband on the front steps of their attractive three-story house, wringing her hands anxiously.

“What’s the matter?” Casworthy grunted, taking off his hat. With his pocket handkerchief he wiped sweat from his florid face. “Lord, it was hot today. What’s wrong? What is it?”

“Andrew, I’m afraid—”

“What the hell happened?”

“Phyllis came home from the park today without her Nanny. She was bent and scratched yesterday when Phyllis brought her home, and Phyllis is so upset I can’t make out—”

“Without her Nanny?”

“She came home alone. By herself. All alone.”

Slow rage suffused the man’s heavy features. “What happened?”

“Something in the park, like yesterday. Something attacked her Nanny. Destroyed her! I can’t get the story exactly straight, but something black, something huge and black … it must have been another Nanny.”

Casworthy’s jaw slowly jutted out. His thickset face turned ugly dark red, a deep unwholesome flush that rose ominously and settled in place. Abruptly, he turned on his heel.

“Where are you going?” his wife fluttered nervously.

The paunchy, red-faced man stalked rapidly down the walk toward his sleek surface cruiser, already reaching for the door handle.

“I’m going to shop for another Nanny,” he muttered. “The best damn Nanny I can get. Even if I have to go to a hundred stores. I want the best—and the biggest.”

“But, dear,” his wife began, hurrying apprehensively after him, “can we really afford it?” Wringing her hands together anxiously, she raced on: “I mean, wouldn’t it be better to wait? Until you’ve had time to think it over, perhaps. Maybe later on, when you’re a little more—calm.”

But Andrew Casworthy wasn’t listening. Already the surface cruiser boiled with quick, eager life, ready to leap forward. “Nobody’s going to get ahead of me,” he said grimly, his heavy lips twitching. “I’ll show them, all of them. Even if I have to get a new size designed. Even if I have to get one of those manufacturers to turn out a new model for me!”

And, oddly, he knew one of them would.