The Book People
The four children stood up and looked at each other.
"I wish Reuben was here," said Cathay. "He'd know what to do."
"He wouldn't know any more than we do," said Francis haughtily.
"We must do something," said Mavis. "It's our fault again."
"It's mine," said Cathay, "but I couldn't help it."
"If you hadn't, one of us would have," said Bernard, seeking to console. "I say, why do only the nasty people come out of the books?"
"I know that," said his Porpoise, turning his black face eagerly toward them. "The stupidest people can't help knowing something. The Under Folk get in and open the books—at least, they send the Bookworms in to open them. And, of course, they only open the pages where the enemies are quartered."
"Then—" said Bernard, looking at the golden gate, which swung open, its lock hanging broken and useless.
"Yes," said Mavis, "we could, couldn't we? Open the other books, we mean!" She appealed to her Porpoise.
"Yes," it said, "perhaps you could. Human children can open books, I believe. Porpoises can't. And Mer-people can't open the books in the Cave of Learning, though they can unlock them. If they want to open them they have to get them from the Public Mer Libraries. I can't help knowing that," it added. The Porpoises seemed really ashamed of not being thoroughly stupid.
"Come on," said Francis, "we'll raise an army to fight these Book People. Here's something we can do that isn't mischief."
"You shut up," said Bernard, and thumping Cathay on the back told her to never mind.
They went toward the golden gate.
"I suppose all the nasty people are out of the books by
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