“No questions, boy!” Rictus said, and as he spoke the wind seemed to fill up his coat. It rose around him like a black balloon, and he was suddenly swept out over the windowsill.

“Questions Trot the mind!” he hollered as he went. “Keep your mouth shut and we’ll see what comes your way!”

And with that the wind carried him off, the balloon of his coat rising like a black moon against the rainy sky.

Harvey said nothing about his peculiar visitor to either his mom or his dad, in case they put locks on the windows to stop Rictus returning to the house. But the trouble with keeping the visit a secret was that after a few days Harvey began to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep at the window, he thought, and Rictus had simply been a dream.

He kept hoping nevertheless. “Watch for me,” Rictus had said, and Harvey did just that. He watched from the window of his room. He watched from his desk at school. He even watched with one eye when he was lying on his pillow at night. But Rictus didn’t show.

And then, about a week after that first visit, just as Harvey’s hope was waning, his watchfulness was rewarded. On his way to school one foggy morning he heard a voice above his head, and looked up to see Rictus floating down from the clouds, his coat swelled up around him so that he looked fatter than a prize pig.

“Howya doin’?” he said, as he descended.

“I was starting to think I’d invented you,” Harvey replied. “You know, like a dream.”

“I get that a lot,” Rictus said, his smile wider than ever. “Particularly from the ladies. You’re a dream come true, they say” He winked. “And who am I to argue? You like my shoes?”

Harvey looked down at Rictus’s bright blue shoes. They were quite a sight, and he said so.

“I got given ‘em by my boss,” Rictus said. “He’s very happy you’re going to come visit. So, are you ready?”

“Well…”

“It’s no use wasting time,” Rictus said. “There may not be room for you tomorrow.”

“Can I just ask one question?”

“I thought we agreed—”

“I know. But just one.”

“All right. One.”

“Is this place far from here?”

“Nah. It’s just across town.”

“So I’d only be missing a couple of hours of school?”

“That’s two questions,” Rictus said.

“No, I’m just thinking out loud.”

Rictus grunted. “Look,” he said, “I’m not here to do a great song and dance persuading you. I got a friend called Jive does that. I’m just a smiler. I smile, and I say: Come with me to the Holiday House, and if folks don’t want to come—” He shrugged. “Hey, it’s their hard luck.”

With that, he turned his back on Harvey.

“Wait!” Harvey protested. “I want to come. But just for a little while.”

“You can stay as long as you like,” Rictus said. “Or as little. All I want to do is take that glum expression off your face and put one of these up there.” His grin grew even larger. “Is there any crime in that?”

“No,” said Harvey. “That’s no crime. I’m glad you found me. I really am.”

So what if he missed all of the morning at school, he thought, it’d be no great loss. Maybe an hour or two of the afternoon as well. As long as he was back home by three. Or four. Certainly before dark.

“I’m ready to go,” he said to Rictus. “Lead the way.”

Millsap, the town in which Harvey had lived all his life, wasn’t very big, and he thought he’d seen just about all of it over the years. But the streets he knew were soon behind them, and though Rictus was setting a fair speed Harvey made sure he kept a mental list of landmarks along the way, in case he had to find his way home on his own. A butcher’s shop with two pigs’ heads hanging from hooks; a church with a yard full of old tombs beside it; the statue of some dead general, covered from hat to stirrups in pigeon dung: All these sights and more he noted and filed away.

And while they walked, Rictus kept up a stream of idle chatter.

“I hate the fog! Just hate it!” he said. “And there’ll be rain by noon. We’ll be out of it, of course…” He went on from talk of rain to the state of the streets. “Look at this trash, all over the sidewalk! It’s shameful! And the mud! It’s making a fine old mess of my shoes!”

He had plenty more to say, but none of it was very enlightening, so after a while Harvey gave up listening. How far was this Holiday House, he began to wonder. The fog was chilling him, and his legs were aching. If they didn’t get there soon, he was going to turn back.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Rictus.

“I bet you don’t.”

“You’re thinking this is all a trick. You’re thinking Rictus is leading you on a mystery tour and there’s nothing at the end of it. Isn’t that true?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well, my boy, I’ve got news for you. Look up ahead.”

He pointed, and there—not very far from where they stood—was a high wall, which was so long that it disappeared into the fog to right and left.

“What do you see?” Rictus asked him.

“A wall,” Harvey replied, though the more he stared at it the less certain of this he was. The stones, which had seemed solid enough at first sight, now looked to be shifting and wavering, as though they’d been chiseled from the fog itself, and piled up here to keep out prying eyes.

“It looks like a wall,” Harvey said, “but it’s not a wall.”

“You’re very observant,” Rictus replied admiringly. “Most people just see a dead end, so they turn around and take another street.”

“But not us.”

“No, not us. We’re going to keep on walking. You know why?”

“Because the Holiday House is on the other side?”

“What a miraculous kid you are!” Rictus replied. “That’s exactly right. Are you hungry, by the way?”

“Starving.”

“Well, there’s a woman waiting for you in the House called Mrs. Griffin, arid let me tell you, she is the greatest cook in all of Americaland. I swear, on my tailor’s grave. Anything you can dream of eating, she can cook. All you have to do is ask. Her deviled eggs” He. smacked his lips. “Perfection.”

“I don’t see a gate,” Harvey said.

“That’s because there isn’t one.”

“So how do we get in?”

“Just keep walking!”

Half out of hunger, half out of curiosity, Harvey did as Rictus had instructed, and as he came within three steps of the wall a gust of balmy, flower-scented wind slipped between the shimmering stones and kissed his cheek. Its warmth was welcome after his long, cold trek, and he picked up his pace, reaching out to touch the wall as he approached it. The misty stones seemed to reach for him in their turn, wrapping their soft, gray arms around his shoulders, and ushering him through the wall.

He looked back, but the street he’d stepped out of, with its gray sidewalks and gray clouds, had already disappeared. Beneath his feet the grass was high and full of flowers. Above his head, the sky was midsummer blue. And ahead of him, set at the summit of a great slope, was a house that had surely been first imagined in a dream.

He didn’t wait to see if Ricer was coming after him, nor to wonder how the gray beast February had been slain and this warm day risen in its place. He simply let out a laugh that Rictus would have been proud of, and hurried up the slope and into the shadow of the dream house.