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Who goes there? What's the password?
In the living room the voice-clack sang,ticktock, seven o'clock, to to get up, time to get up, seven o'clock!
The garden sprinklers whirled up in golden founts, filling the soft morning air with scatterings of brightness.
How carefully it had inquired "who goes there? What's the password..." No, not even a bird could touch the house.
At for o'clock the tables folded like great butterflies back through the panaled walls.
Nine o'clock. The beds warmed their hidden circuits, for nights were cool here.
The fire crackled up the stairs.
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