'How cruel' Meserimus couldn't help but mutter. Meserimus life had been long, he had seen a great deal - he had seen the ways in which children were dealt with change so dramatically that he could scarecly recognise it. He had seldome seen his own father but for once a week on a sunday, his first set of children had seen him only once a day in the evening, now his children sat at table with every meal, he read to them. Paternal affection was a new invention it seemed. When he had been a young man there had been a theory that children did not feel pain - either physical or emotional. Now they knew better, but it seemed like there was no accounting for the general cruelties of men.

'He is far from here young man,' Meserimus comforted, 'He cannot harm you further.' reaching into the billowing sleeve of his robe he brought forth a square of very dark, very bitter chocolate - it was the sort he favoured, not the sweet milky sort general preferred by children, but it might help his mood a little. 'Where do you stay Mister Leverett? when school is over, do you go back to him?'