Damien gave a soundless laugh, shut his eyes and opened them. "When I was six."

"Well, we need another man-part of Mr. Wilburforce." Zoe led him in and there was a pause while the others stared. "How about a Coke before we start?" She squeezed Damien's arm and told herself he simply must be older than these children. "Irving, how about some dip for these boys?" And she vanished into the faucet-leaky confines of the kitchen.

Damien stood motionless in narrow Italian slacks that hugged his thighs, gaudily striped shirt open nearly to the waist over a glossy chest. He glanced from person to person with long-lashed eyes, incurious, faintly smiling. Reece stepped over Irving, who sat on the floor, to get to Nelson. "Hi, Dick," he said, "hi, Nickerson."

Nelson stopped his piano poking and stared at Reece hard and suspiciously. Bob smiled, surprised. "Hi, Dave."

Nelson muttered, "What the hell did you bring Dainty Prince here for?" Reece raised his eyebrows. "You heard. Cast needs another man." Zoe pushed a cold bottle into his hand. "Ready for another, Dick?" "No, thanks." Nelson shook his head. To Reece he said, "But why Dainty?" Standing in the middle of the room, Zoe addressed everyone brightly. "Well, now that we're all here, we'd better get started. Everybody bring scripts? Anybody learned any lines?"

"He can act," Reece murmured to Nelson. "He wants to be in the play." "I think Phyllis and I've learned almost six pages," Maxine said.

Irving waved a cellophane-wrapped cigar. "I've been practicing stogeysmoking.'

"Anyplace but here," Zoe laughed.

Nelson kept to an angry undertone. "But he's a queer. Got thrown out of school for it once. Besides, he's older than any of us.

Damien's pleasant, mature voice wondered, "Is there a script for me?" "Right here." Zoe sorted through a stack of papers and magazines on an end table.

"I didn't even know you knew him," Nelson said.

Reece smiled crookedly. "I didn't.'

"Damien," Zoe asked, handing him a brown booklet, "have you met everybody? Maxine Gamble, Phyllis Smith, Irving Zimmerman-

"I cultivated him," Reece whispered.

-And you know David, and that's Dick Nelson-"

Reece stood aside and watched with a twitch of smile as Nelson coldly shook Damien Prince's hand.

"And," Zoe said with special fondness, "that's Bob Nickerson."

Reece forced down Nelson's shoulder and hissed into his ear, "I thought he and Nickerson might have something in common." He studied the two of them shaking hands while Nelson glowered at him. He finished gently, "You know how lonely he is."

In his postman's uniform, his face coated with brick-colored makeup, Dave Reece sneaked down the narrow, green-walled cement staircase to the boy's dressingroom. It was empty. The light glared from naked bulbs beside the square mirrors spaced above a counter along one wall. Pants, shirts, coats, shoes were strewn around on chairs and floor. He picked up a chair, carried it into the hall, and kicked from under the door the rubber wedge that had held it

open.