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crumpled. Pamela was sorry for her, but she was relieved that Aunt Sarah had forgotten to question any further. When she turned back to Pamela she said, “Take your plate to the kitchen. You shall eat there alone for a week. And tomorrow you will write a five hundred word essay on the value of punctuality.”
    The danger was over, but it had come too close for comfort. Pamela took her plate to the kitchen, thinking she would have to get home on time the next time. The next time! How marvelous to have a next time to look forward to!
    Next time, however, didn’t come as soon as Pamela expected. A summer rainy spell set in, and for three days the rain fell steadily and the wind roared in the oak trees. Pamela, of course, was not allowed to leave the house. She fidgeted from room to room, looking out every window to see if the rain showed signs of stopping.
    I wonder where they are, she thought. What are they doing? I hope they have a place out of the rain.
    On the third night after dinner, Pamela was sitting on the window seat in her room listening to the moan of the wind and the beat of rain on her window. It was quite dark outside, and the lights from the house made strange patterns on the wet grass of the lawn.
    As she watched the rain slant in sparkling splinters through the squares of light, Pamela could feel the weight of the amulet beneath her dress. What did it have to do with Ponyboy? It must somehow have brought him. How could she ask about it without making him angry? If only the rain would stop so she could go out.
    Her musing was interrupted by a sudden movement beneath the oak trees at the edge of the lawn. A gray shadow caught her eye. It looked as if it might be—yes, it was—a pony! Pamela snatched her raincoat from the closet and tiptoed to the back stairs that led to the kitchen door. She was sure her aunts were in the parlor, but she held her breath as she glided across the kitchen. From a chair Brother watched her with narrow eyes.
    “I’m glad you can’t talk,” Pamela whispered. “You’d just love to tell on me.”
    Outside, she gasped as the cold rain-filled wind hit her face. Beyond the patches of light on the lawn, nothing was visible. There was only darkness under the oaks where the pony had been.
    For a moment Pamela hesitated. What if she hadn’t really seen a pony under the trees? Or worse, what if it had been something else—something unknown and dangerous?
    She stood undecided while the oak trees moaned and tossed and the rain beat through the patches of light. Then a door slammed somewhere in the house.
    Aunt Sarah, coming to put Brother out! It was too late to go back, and Aunt Sarah would surely see her where she was.
    Mustering her courage, she plunged into the wet darkness. She reached the oaks and dashed on, too frightened to stop running. Suddenly, just ahead, a pale shadow loomed. Pamela almost screamed as her outstretched hands touched something warm and wet. Something warm and wet and satin smooth.
    “Nimbus!” she gasped in relief. Hastily she scrambled onto the wet back. Surely and quietly the gray mare picked her way among the oaks. They circled the house and took the wagon road to the barnyard.
    They weren’t going to the forest. Pamela could tell that. But where were they going?
    The ride was quickly over. Nimbus stopped before the door of the old deserted granary where Pamela had found the strand of pink hair. She slipped off the pony and pushed open the heavy sliding door.
    The granary was full of a strange flickering light—and ponies! Ponies were everywhere. As Pamela stepped inside, their small fine heads turned towards her and one or two nickered a greeting. The firelight shone on their sleek hides and sparkled in their deep soft eyes.

In the Old Granary
    “C LOSE THE DOOR,” PONYBOY said. “You’re letting in the rain.” He was sitting cross-legged on the floor near a small fire that burned in part of an old metal oil drum. The flickering light made