“Want to see Gray-grahma!” Billy had said, finding the key for his mama.

“Well, you’ll see her in a moment,” Mrs. Small had answered. She took the key, braced the groceries in her arms, and turned the key in the lock. “Now push, Buster,” she had told her stoutest little son. They had entered the hall, and she’d called, “Grandmother Rhetty, we’re home!” She thought she heard faint talking upstairs as she went on to the kitchen to set the bags down and put the groceries away.

She was thinking about how the boys seemed to like the nursery school. They could attend six half days or three full days a week. She thought she’d let them try it. I’ll talk it over with Walter. She thought of Thomas and Mac Darrow then and smiled to herself. With the twins in school, Thomas would have more time to make new friends.

Walter came home before she could gather the boys and go pick him up. He’d gotten a ride from someone at the college. Had his papers and books, his briefcase. “We stopped at the store,” he said in greeting.

Martha smiled. “Walter, I shopped, too,” she said. “I bought hamburger and chicken and cookies.”

“Chicken and lamb chops and cookies,” he said. “Well, hello!”

“Well, we can use everything,” she said.

Just then Thomas bounded down the stairs. “Papa, Mama, you will never guess in the world what happened!” he exclaimed.

“Thomas, is Great-grandmother coming?” his mama said, thinking her little boys must have Grandmother Rhetty in tow.

“I’m right here!” Great-grandmother Jeffers called. “I’m just not so fast.” Martha Small imagined that Billy and Buster were on either side of her, helping her carefully down.

But who would have thought the two little fellows would be in the exact spot to see something of what Thomas said their folks would never guess? Billy and Buster had got away from their mama when she came in with her arms full of groceries. They climbed upstairs in search of Great-grandmother, only to find her bedroom empty. They’d stood there for a moment, peeking in at the clutter.

“Gray-grahma,” Billy said, “not here.”

It was Buster who ran over to Thomas’s room, to find that she was not there either. Together the boys went to their own room. Finding it empty, they closed the door behind them. Billy banged on the door. “Come in?” he said, imitating the way his mother answered whenever they knocked on her door.

“Come in?” Buster mimicked. They giggled.

Billy ran down the hall, knocking on closed doors. “Come in? Come in? How you do? Yes. Tank you. Please.” Peals of laughter from the boys. Inspired, Buster banged on the very last door, and it swung slowly open.

“Oooh,” Billy whispered. Buster put his arm around him. Billy wrapped his arm around Buster. They stood there, looking in at the darkened bedroom. They couldn’t remember ever being in this room before. Just a bedroom. They strutted in like marchers they’d seen at Street Fair Day. They didn’t remember what the day was called. But they remembered the band playing, the smell of popcorn. How remarkable it was that their nearly identical minds would sort out the same experiences for both to remember! They grinned twin grins and jumped up on the bed. They stepped high across and up and down the striped bedspread.

Until the moment they heard muffled sounds there, coming from the bedroom wall where there was a fireplace. Talking, getting closer, louder, from behind the wall. Without hesitation they hid themselves. They slid off the bed to the floor behind. In the shadows of the corner there, they hid and watched, peeking under the bed. Buster crawled under, and Billy followed, scooting on his stomach up beside his brother. They held each other’s hand. And looked out from beneath the bedspread that hung a couple of inches above the floor.

They saw the fireplace move around. And there were Thomas and Gray-grahma being carried slowly from the other side. Well, this must be some game. Hiding behind a wall. Hide-and-seek! They knew not to laugh. They knew how to play.

Billy covered his mouth to keep in the giggle that was bubbling up inside him. So did Buster, as Thomas helped Great-grandmother Jeffers down from the fireplace hearth.

“Whew!” they heard Gray-grahma say. “Nice to be back inside, Thomas, isn’t it?”

“It sure is,” Thomas said. He turned back to the wall with the fireplace that had brought them into the room. As he pushed the place there above the mantel, the fireplace moved, went slowly around, and disappeared. And the one that had been there when the boys came in swung around again.

A slow grin spread over Billy’s face.

“I hear Mama downstairs!” Thomas said. “She’s home!” And he could also hear his papa’s low rumble of a voice.

Thomas ran out of the room, yelling for his papa and his mama all the way. His brothers, wide-eyed under the bed, listened and waited.

Great-grandmother Jeffers went out, breathing somewhat hard now. It had been quite a walk she’d taken. She closed the door behind her.

The boys still could hear Thomas. Heard him holler, “… you will never guess in the world …” They were all alone. Peeking from under the bed, Billy watched the bottom of the closed door. But nobody came back to find him and Buster. This was hide-and-seek, so they waited for a moment longer.

Finally Buster scooted out from under the bed. Billy followed. “Shoot,” Buster said. “Find us? Come in?” he added, grinning.

Billy didn’t want to play knock, knock, come in. He knew where there was another game. He looked at the fireplace for a long time. Buster came up next to him. He looked over at the fireplace and back to Billy.

There was a long, silent moment. Billy grinned from ear to ear again. He put his arm around his brother. “Merry-go-round!” he said.

Buster stared at him. He caught on. “Oh! Go! Go!” he exclaimed.

“Merry-go-round!” Billy said again. They marched up to the fireplace, climbed up on the hearth. Billy slapped at the stones. He’d seen Thomas do the slapping. Be big, like Thomas. He had to hold on to the mantel, slap above it, standing on tiptoes.

Buster started hitting the stones, too. “Ouch,” he said. “Come in”—murmured with a touch of pain.

Billy found the stone that could be pushed in. He hit it and felt it give. He pushed it, and the wall swung around. “Whee!”

Buster held on. It was a queer merry-go-round he was on. He knew the happiness of a merry-go-round they’d ridden sometime, and it had been fun. So this one must be fun. “Whee,” he said, halfheartedly as they came around to the darkness.

“Come in!” Billy said, stepping down from the raised hearth.

“Nuh-uh,” said Buster, holding on.

“Come on!” Billy commanded.

“No!” Buster said.

“Hey, you guys!” Someone spoke to them in the dark.

“Pessy!” Buster said.

“Yeah!” Pesty said. “I was just making up my mind if I would come on over. I come on back with Thomas and Great Mother. Here, take my hand, Billy. Buster, you hold on to Billy—do you want to play?”

“Yeah!” Billy said.

“Wanna go home,” Buster said plaintively.

Billy took him by the hand.

“Now walk careful. It’s a stairs,” Pesty told them. “Take a step, one at a time.”

Carefully Billy stepped down. He turned in the dark to his brother. “Take a step, Bus,” he said. Buster did as he was told, but he still wanted to go home.

Then they were in the room with the one lantern glow, the perfect room from another time. Slowly the boys grew out of sorts in the evening light of wine-colored velvets and pale pink silks of the end table skirts. Buster, sensing the strangeness and smelling the ancient underground, began to cry. Hearing Buster cry made Billy whimper. Soon both boys were moaning and crying. They climbed up on the secret bed because it seemed familiar. But its sagging tick pallet did not make them feel much like marching. They got down, stumbling around, feeling lost even though Pesty was right there, watching over them. They put their heads together and bawled in earnest.