Without saying anything Vetta let her shoes direct her to the eatery where she stood before the gilt decorated notices of special offers for the day. Meresinth looked around in panic and then stood next to her.

"You're not thinking of going in are you?" she whispered. Then she looked closer at the meals on offer. "Honeyblobs? What are they?"

"Oh, scrumptious!" Vetta replied then realising this was but half an answer she continued with a blush. "Fresh gooseberries dipped in light melted cheese."

"Ugh."

Other cheese dishes formed a long list of strange names that totally absorbed Vetta for a silent moment and Meresinth was sure she felt the girl give off trembling vibrations like some bush insect calling to its mate. Perhaps it was the prices each dish cost for the range was ludicrously astronomical. One could buy a small moon for what was being asked, just as a starter. Meresinth glanced beyond the display notice to see if there had been any takers but the place was clearly empty. A solemn looking waitress wandered casually about on the rich carpet inside wiping tables now and again, adjusting chairs and golden condiment racks, just for something to do it seemed. She looked totally bored.

"That's interesting. The proprietor's name is Monykebbok," Vetta said, which drew the other girl's attention back to the bill of fare.

"Monkeybox? What a funny name," Meresinth laughed.

"I have heard the name before. It is a Poldorama name, famous I am sure but I cannot remember why. Fame is like that sometimes I think."

"Famous for being a mouthful perhaps. That's why he runs an eatery. Shame there's no one you can ask."

"But there is!" Vetta replied after a moment, stepping back from the window, much to her friend's relief. The magic spell had been broken. "There is a girl in the third year at our school who comes from my homeland. We shall ask her," and she began walking along the sidewalk back towards Mount Syzywyg as if she intended to do just that right then. There were several faces lined up in the window of the Squeaky Tomato, glaring across the wide boulevard at the invidious Cheetery and anyone who might enter there. Meresinth noticed the evil stares, grinned nervously, and gestured as if she were shepherding a confused person away from the rival premises.

"Is that a good idea, bothering the upper years with trivia?" she said while continuing to encourage the girl to do just that. They had been at Miss Plazenby's only a few weeks and had made few acquaintances beyond the first years, or even beyond their own Wonder Dormitory. Meresinth wasn't averse to pestering the proud older girls, but that was solely in fun. This sounded like a serious project, which held little prospect of hilarity for the dedicated prankster.

"Of course. We shall be like long lost sisters. Kindness to others is one of the five well-springs of joy, and we can enrich her inner soul by letting her help us through kindness."

"Unless one of the other well-springs has thrashed it out of her," Meresinth observed.

"Whatever do you mean?" Vetta's deep blue eyes enlarged in shock at such a thought.

"Education," Meresinth explained with a wry smile, a smile she called her cloak of risibility.

As it appeared the adventure in Cherryball Flats had been terminated for the day with this curious discovery, Meresinth abandoned her belching practice for another time. Vetta now wished to seek answers upon the origins of an eatery which had appeared so suddenly out of nowhere, all at the behest of the mysterious Mister Monykebbok and his super expensive honeyblobs and the other girl thought perhaps there might be some fun to be had still, depending on how the unsuspecting Poldorama third year would take the intrusion.

As luck would have it the girl was at home. A green dot appeared by her name on the in-school locator which meant she was currently in her dorm and at leisure. Third years and up only had the privilege of red dotted exclusivity. First and seconds were always at leisure apparently. She was called Vikora Playne and the picture next her name showed a wide-eyed creature, shocked into a smile by the lens that captured her likeness, a pale face framed by short brown hair with a dotty bow on one side. Meresinth felt certain the hair would be styled in waves by now and the bow long discarded. The eyes though remained as wide as ever and the smile that greeted Vetta's gentle knocking upon the door also retained its affinity with shock. The girl seemed to live in a world of unexpectedness. A Poldorama trait well exemplified by Vetta's own approach to life.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"And what brings you children to my humble nest?" the girl said in all her thirteen years of grandeur. She was of course a teenager now, having crossed the threshold from child to adult in one great leap of sudden maturity and had no intention of looking back whence she came.

"We seek knowledge," Vetta began in her own humble way. "Knowledge only you may possess perhaps, being from Poldorama."

The girl looked the two visitors over a moment, briefly considering the taller of the two with her long black hair and twisty braid knotted with a bright blue ribbon. Then her gaze lingered upon the blushing blonde, a plump small figure with nervous fingers that sought each others' comfort at every opportunity.

"You're from Poldorama too," she eventually said, staring down at Vetta from a ten inch height advantage. "You've got that beaten down look about you, and the slightly monotone drawl of a Hub girl."

"We come from the same place," Vetta reminded the girl. "Yet you do not appear to be beaten down. In fact you are glorious," she said in innocent admiration.

"Education," coughed Meresinth as she moved deeper into the room without being invited. There were three beds in the cosy dorm, but Vikora was alone at the moment. A curious shelf of books in one corner drew the visitor's gaze. The thick volumes were without titles and bound in rainbow colours, each one tinted a gradual shade from deep violet on the left through the reds and oranges and on past cooler yellows and greens to a blue on the right so dark the Arbornica girl later called it the Book of Night, imagining all sorts of evil knowledge within its sinister covers.

The third year gave her a brief look of irritation before addressing her fellow Winkel girl.

"It is the gift of Miss Plazenby's," she said stiffly with pride. "When you have imbibed the fruits of knowledge this great establishment provides for three years you learn your true worth in the world. We are Plazenby girls, destined to shape, um, destinies." Clearly there were a few rough edges yet to be filed smooth by the elite curriculum on offer but Vetta was nonetheless suitably impressed by this speech.

"I look forward to being glorious," she said happily.

"I look forward to being expelled," Meresinth muttered.

"Hmn, that'll pass. You are after all only first years. Barely out of play groups, still learning the names of things." Again she scrutinised Vetta mercilessly. "Your father? He's a cheesemaker for sure."

"How do you know this?" and Vetta looked up with increasing awe at the girl she might one day become, her future self, so full of poise and knowledge and grandeur.

"There's a sallow cheesy look about you. If you had stayed home any longer you might turn into a great ambulatory cheese," and she laughed huskily at her own joke.

"My father is a master cheesemaker," Vetta replied proudly. "His Fettabok Mild won the Dairy Solids Grand Medal three years in five."

"Which strange sounding name reminds me why we have visited your humble nest," Meresinth nudged forward to prevent the other girl from reciting additional prizes her father might have won over the years. "Know anything about a Poldy man called Monkeybox?"

The third year girl blinked, puzzled.

"My friend refers to a gentleman of long ago, once famous I think, by the name of Monykebbok who may have wrought great things in the world of cheese," Vetta hastily corrected Meresinth in as polite and sympathetic way as possible.

"Ah," the third year said, breathing in these strange words as a burden upon her greater knowledge of things. She looked over at the rainbow shelf thoughtfully a moment and then reached for a book near the middle. Of course, Meresinth sniggered to herself, it was the one whose cover most resembled the yellow of a rich cheese.

"You have an interesting library," she said, trying to hide behind her cloak of risibility as she spoke.

"It is a chromatopedia," came the casual reply. "You'll understand its function when you have been here a little longer." She flicked through the chosen book a moment, finger gliding down each page in turn as she sought answers.

"Lemons," came a curious response, as if Meresinth was being rude.

"Sorry?"

"If I wished to seek information about lemons I would choose that volume there, slightly more greeny than orange."

"Well, I'm impressed. You are a bright child. Miss Plazenby will be pleased to have you as a pupil," the third year responded generously.

"Not when she gets to know me better," the other girl fidgeted uncomfortably, not liking such praise. Vetta meanwhile was none the wiser for all this chatter and waited patiently for the Monykebbok mystery to be solved.

"There!" the third year eventually said, and she showed the eager Vetta a paragraph in small writing. The name was there in bold letters, followed by dates and code numbers. "Note these and you can then access the library files. It seems from this brief subnote on the history of cheese that the person you want to know about was also a master cheesemaker, but a hundred years ago." She closed the book with a resounding thump and replaced it upon the shelf briskly, making the inquisitive Meresinth jump back. "Were you looking for something else?" she asked with a kind of brittleness in her voice as if the visitor had trespassed upon private grounds.

"Just wondering which volume might contain the origins and history of glass making," the mischievous girl said.

"Like I said," came the swift and confident reply, "in time you will appreciate the subtleties of the chromatopedia."

"Or the history of colourblindness?"

"Begone! You have your number codes. I have work to do and cannot afford any more interruptions from children," and she pushed the two first years out the door, which slammed behind them. The green dot by her name had most certainly changed to red.