Three hours after Tick and the others arrived at the Grand Canyon—three long and boring but happy hours—Master George and Rutger suddenly appeared by the fireplace without any warning, disheveled and dirty, but faces beaming.

Tick didn’t know how to react; he felt shocked, relieved, elated, confused. He jumped up from the couch, his emotions swirling from all the highs and lows he’d felt since he’d awakened that morning. Mistress Jane’s Barrier Wand lay on the couch next to him and he picked it up, excited to show Master George, who was already talking a mile a minute.

“I can hardly believe my eyes, old chaps! You did it, you really did it, indeed! I couldn’t be more delighted if Muffintops bore twelve kittens this very instant. Why, I—” He stopped, catching sight of the now-filthy and battered Wand in Tick’s hands. “Master Atticus, I simply knew you were up to the task. Congratulations to all of you.” He focused on the Wand, holding his hands out timidly. “May I, er, see it?”

Tick handed over the golden cylinder, glad to be rid of it.

As soon as Master George took it in his hands, he frowned, his brow crinkling in confusion. “Why, it’s so . . . light. Has Mistress Jane altered the construction somehow?” He turned the Wand over and unscrewed the bottom until it popped off. He then held the now-open cylinder up to his eye like a telescope, closing his other eye as he examined its insides.

Master George dropped the Wand to his side, a look of complete bewilderment on his face.

“What’s the matter?” Mothball asked. “Look like a mum what’s lost her kiddies, ya do.”

Master George looked at Tick, dark thunderclouds gathering in his eyes.

“What?” Tick asked, taking a step back.

“Have you taken any pieces out of this Wand?” Master George asked, his tone accusatory.

“Huh?” Tick looked over at Sofia, then Paul. Both of them shrugged their shoulders. “No. I didn’t even know you could open it up.”

Master George looked like he didn’t believe him. “Young man, you are telling me you used this Barrier Wand to wink yourself and these good people to this place?”

“Um . . . yes, sir,” Tick stammered, worried he was in serious trouble.

Master George harrumphed and paced around the room, mumbling to himself, throwing his arms up in frustration as if he were in a great argument. He looked like a gorilla on a rampage.

“What in the name of Reality Prime’s wrong with ya, Master George?” Mothball asked.

Master George stopped, turning sharply to face the group. “My dear fellow Realitants—because you are all most certainly full-fledged members now—you have all witnessed something that could very well change the Realities forever. Tick, my good man, have you ever had anything remarkable happen before in your life? Something quite . . . miraculous, if you will?”