Anthony honestly wasn't sure he'd expected to see the semi-familiar faces from the lecture when he stepped outside again. The twilight had darkened, but he recognized the woman from the conversation by the wall. Shivers went down Anthony's spine at Benjamin's question, lodged in his stomach, and wriggled like the beginnings of performance jitters. The big man at his side had become intimidating without skipping a beat.

Was the town unfriendly to bunches of strangers? They'd been welcoming enough to him when he burst in. They'd taken his research in stride. But it sounded a lot far-fetched to say they were all dreaming after a lecture.

On the other hand, if this was a dream, all he had to do was say something.

Anthony shrugged his shoulders and stalled for a little more time, hoping for a cue to play off of. "That... would depend on what sort of information you're looking for. Sir," he added, because Benjamin had a way of commanding respect.

“Do you know these people?” Benjamin asked.

"I've met them," admitted Anthony. "They seem nice enough."

“Cecile, would you mind checking on the baby for me?” Grace asked. The two women nodded knowingly at each other.

Pat Balcom cleared his throat. "You want me to come along, Miz Cecile? It's gettin' dark out there--"

“Nope,” Grace said shortly, the rifle swiveling to hit Pat’s chest and block his path. “I think it’s best you stay put.”

“Pat, what do you know about these folks?” Benjamin began amicably. “Did Sol send for them?”

"He sent off for some surveyors," said Pat, looking down cross-eyed at the rifle poking him above the belt. "But they don't look like no surveyors I've ever seen."

While Grace held off Pat's misplaced gallantry, Cecile slipped around behind the group and headed down the street.

“Lot of women for surveyors, too,” Harry observed. Hugh smacked Harry with his towel and told him to hush.

“Pat, you know we’ve been givin’ you a free pass ‘round here what with bein’ kind about the repairs for the school and all. What’s Sol doin’? This more of his innovation and progress nonsense?”

"It ain't nonsense," said Pat. "Progress is a good thing--gives a future for the children. Why, I'd'a been starved if it hadn't been for the factories, and the learnin'. Lookit me now!"

“We were fine before ye came, we’ll be fine long after ye all have left,” Benjamin began.

“Don’t start now, you two,” Grace pleaded. “They’re all just standin’ there, lookin’ at us. Did they come with the fiddler?”

Anthony was suddenly the center of attention again, and the way Grace was handling the rifle made him distinctly nervous.

“Did you travel with them?” Benjamin asked.

That was getting into things Anthony couldn't quantify. Did a poof count as travel? "Er," he said. "I suppose so? We were, um--is there a train here?"

“There’s no train until tomorrow,” Harry said. “They couldn’t have come this morning. We would have noticed.”

“Hush, Harry,” Grace said. “Let Benjamin do the talking for once.”

"Well it couldn't have been a stagecoach," Anthony protested. It had been going to be such a good metaphor, too, explaining how he could be part of a group and not at the same time. "There are too many of us."

“Who sent you?” Benjamin asked.

"No one," said Anthony. It was sounding like he was suspected of some sort of crime--or the others were, but there wasn't much they could have done in the time he'd been inside the tavern. Of all the turn-arounds… get a fellow in to play you a reel, and then accuse him of… whatever you needed to explain away. "Or if there was someone, I wasn't consulted."

“What’s your purpose in coming here?”

"I told you," said Anthony. "Research. I was interrupted before I could find out the juicy gossip on anyone else."

Faye nodded with Molly's explanation. "I had no doubt of that, Molly." She told her, reassuringly. "Unfortunately, I have no idea what just happened. I don't even how this could be some kind of prank - no one could possibly have changed things out this quickly." She restrained a twinge of annoyance with "Anthony" running off - by context, he must be the violinist - but if he was playing his violin, then he must not be in too much trouble. It also bothered her that Dr. Milner hadn't been there - he'd been involved in the event, so if it was part of that he'd probably know better than anyone else. Besides, if nothing else, he would act as a good guide.

Zale's revelation that his parents were missing were a much higher priority for her for now. She couldn't rightly leave either of the boys now, not to mention the fact that some people might be missing made her nervous. When he told her this, she turned to the others and proposed, "Let's do a head count, make sure we know exactly who we remember being there and make sure we know who we have in case we get separated."

While they were trying to organize this, a group came out of the tavern - or saloon, or whatever it was. Faye recognized the red-haired man who must be Anthony, but everyone else was a complete stranger. They looked on at the group of Dittopians with a mixture of shock and suspicion - and, though she couldn't actually hear the conversation, she could see that they were turning on Anthony.

She quietly whispered to the people she knew the best, "Dan, Angie, Molly, could you keep an eye on the boys?" With that, she walked over to the group, awkwardly in her new boots, and when she was a reasonable distance away, she called out, "Um... hi. I'm sorry, could you... tell us where we are? We seem to be lost."

Grace sighed, removing her rifle from Pat’s chest and resting it on her shoulder.

“You usually roll into towns with no luggage and without knowing where you are?” she scoffed. “This is Original. Y’all got a problem with that?”

Original? Faye wracked her brain trying to think if she'd ever heard that before, even in historical reference, but she couldn't come up with anything. She was pretty sure it hadn't come up in the lecture, but now she really wished she'd paid more attention so she could be sure.

"As I said, we're... a bit lost." She decided against saying "And we don't know how we got here" - she had a feeling that wouldn't go over any better. She sighed, and she doubted it would work, but decided to ask anyways, "You wouldn't happen to have heard of Ditto Town, would you?"

Grace cocked her head, still keeping an eye on the newcomers.

“Benjamin?” She asked.

“Nope,” Benjamin replied.

“Harry?”

“Aw, that ain’t fair. Ya rode for years. If you hain’t heard of it, not like I’m gonna. Sounds like some fancy place back east.”

“None of us know it,” Grace said flatly. “Why?”

There was a sudden flash of light and Eliza was standing in the middle of a dirt road. There was a tavern on the side of the road that was dotted with lanterns, which seemed to be the only other light besides the moon and stars. There were other buildings further down the road, but the tavern was the only one that seemed remotely inhabited.

Everyone seemed to be wearing period clothing and it also appeared that Eliza was wearing a period dress. She looked over a Marcus with a confused look and her face only to find the same face on her husband. The dress wasn't uncomfortable, actually it was quite nice and not too hot even for having a good amount of layers.

Then it hit her like a bullet, where was Zale? I mean she wasn't overprotective but he gets nervous easily so she wanted to make sure he was okey. Turning to Marcus she asked,
"Have you seen Zale, Marcus?"
"No, not sense we walked into the mansion."
"Then we should look for him, you know how nervous he can get."
"Alright lets go."
'Zale please be alright.'

With that Eliza and Marcus went off to look for their son.

* * *

'Well alright.' Faye had just whispered something to someone and walked straight towards the people that came out of the tavern. Zale would never have the confidence to just walk up to some random person and start doing anything. he thought that maybe one day he would at least be able to say hi to someone without stuttering. In the mean time he decided to try to slip away and find a quiet place to think or just calm down. He spotted a large rock underneath an oak tree and started towards it.

While the others had been busy keeping Pat at bay and Anthony under guard, Cecile Babbit had hurried a block or so down the street, slipping into an unobtrusive blue door. She emerged a few moments later, followed by a tall man. He was dressed similarly to Benjamin, except his vest was in much finer condition, and he, of course, wore an immaculate white hat.

"That's them," said Cecile, as if there could have been more than one group of strangers cluttering up the main street.

With his thumbs in his belt, Cecile's companion stepped towards the group. As he approached the gathered strangers, he tipped his hat to the newcomers and called, "Howdy, folks. It's been some time since we've had strangers in these here parts. Seems we’re all a bit surprised at the honor. How’d you happen on our humble abode?"

For those at the lecture, it wouldn't be easy to identify him as Dr. Milner. It was unquestionably the same facial features, but other than that the change was like night and day, as if before they had only spoken with his shadow. He stood tall, seemingly a good foot and a half taller than he was while giving his lecture, and his mildly pudgy frame was replaced by the well-toned musculature of a man who worked his body for his living. Gone were the nervous shifting eyes, and instead he did one single, clean sweep of the group, making careful note, perhaps seeing things that they were not yet aware of.

The silver star on his chest confirmed it. This--this could only be the Sheriff.

"Why, howdy...uh...Sheriff," Molly, stepping forward to join Faye, cast her eye over the man with a mix of curiosity and half-veiled suspicion. He looked awfully familiar, but she couldn't quite place him. "We had hoped that someone here could tell us that very thing."

“Well,” the sheriff began, his eyes crinkling kindly at the corners, “seems a bit odd that a body wouldn’t know how it got where it was. Most of the time those would be words out of the mouth of an inebriate, yet all of you seem to be upstanding personages.”

Harry started to raise an objection, but his efforts were stymied by both Pat and Benjamin turning to glare at him.

“Quell your fears, Harry,” Sheriff Lyman said, seemingly comprehending the complaint the former was unable to make. “They carry no luggage, so they don’t intend to stay long, and their dress indicates they are respectable enough. They can’t have traveled far.”

“Come,” he said, turning his attention back to the newcomers. “I think this had best be settled on the morrow. A good meal and proper rest would do you all well. If you’ll follow me, the boarding house is right this way.”

Glancing around at the rest of the Mansion folk, Molly could see the tension in most of their faces slowly dissolving. What a difference a kindly word could make!

"I guess we could all do with a meal," she said, still a trifle hesitant. She couldn't help wondering why the town folk should appear to be so hostile to strangers.

"Even more, what I'd really like is the chance to have a wash," she muttered under her breath, fingering the portions of her neck that she could reach, hating the gritty feel of dust chafing under her high-necked dress.

Standing on her porch to take advantage of the evening breeze, Norah Thamer swished dishes in and out of the tin washtub. An oil lamp flickered pleasantly on the windowsill, casting a soft orange glow over the weathered boards. There were voices down the street, but she didn't pay much heed. Just the young folks lettin' off a bit of steam before settlin' down fer the night.

She found herself humming.

"Drat Harry," Norah muttered. "He's always gettin' things stuck in my head with that kazoo o' his." She tried to shake the tune off like an irritating fly, but it was stuck. Catchy thing. Almost drowned out the voices--no they were gettin' closer now.

Norah put one hand to her lower back, and dragged her opposite wrist across her forehead. Her bones weren't as young as they used to be, and she was starting to feel the years that had turned her hair white and carved the wrinkles around her eyes. She blinked at the group coming up the walk to her porch.

"Land sakes," she ejaculated. "That shore do be a passel o' folks. Where'd they all spring from?"

They seemed to be all ages and sizes, with a few of the town folks herding those who'd seemed inclined to stray, and led by Sheriff Lyman. Grace had her rifle over her shoulder, and Norah narrowed her eyes. That girl had a talent for sniffing trouble in the making.

Sheriff Lyman put a booted foot up on her porch step. He tipped his white hat respectfully. "Evenin', Miz Norah. How's business?"

"I have a feelin' it's about to pick up," said Norah, wryly. She wiped her hands on the dishtowel and considered the state of her pantry. "Howdy, folks. This here's Thamer House, the finest boardin' establishment this side o' Dinkling Falls. You must be tired so let's get you inside and settled."

There were nods of agreement, and as they filed past her and into the front room, Norah counted heads and continued to plan.

"Sheriff, if you don't mind, there's a bucket by the door--you can fill the kettle on the stove so these folks can wash up a bit. I'll have somethin' hot in the dining room in two shakes of a lamb’s tail--Grace, Cecile, if you wouldn't mind lendin' a hand--yes, through that door there--" Norah pointed. "Now, upstairs I have two long rooms. Gentlemen on the left, ladies on the right, for those as don't mind sharing. You want a private room, those are the next four doors. If that don't fit y'all in, let me know."

She smiled at her new guests. "Welcome to Original!"

Cody saw Zale break away from the group. He turned to him and quietly said, "Hey... we're going to be okay, okay?" He tried to offer a reassuring smile, but he knew he wasn't sincere and the smile was stiff. He had the feeling that Zale wanted space, and decided not to follow too far. Besides, he had a feeling Miss Brixton was going to kill him if he wandered off. Still, he kept an eye on Zale, just in case.

In the meanwhile, he had a whole bunch of other things to worry about. He didn't like how the townsfolk looked at them and talked to them at all. Cody was trying to decide what the rules were. It couldn't be simple time travel - why did their clothes change? Admittedly, he had no experience with time travel outside of stories, so for all he knew this was par for the course. Could it be some kind of alternate reality? That still raised the clothing question.

Regardless, there was no explanation that was going to satisfy the townsfolk. When the sheriff first came out, he was worried that he was going to arrest them all. Thankfully, he actually seemed more easygoing about the whole thing than the other locals, and soon he'd invited them all to a meal and a rest.

Great! This was all assuming, of course, that this wasn't part of some maniacal plan of his to get all of these poor, lost travelers into one place.... Cody shook his head. The day was crazy enough without his imagination running wild.

--

Faye did her best to smile politely when "Norah" gave her directions, but the strangeness of the whole situation just wouldn't leave her mind. Something seriously bothered her about the Sheriff. It was nothing she could put her finger on, just a feeling of distinct familiarity... and yet, everything seemed wrong. But the light had been poor outside and she hadn't seen much of him since then. She'd just have to hope for a better look at him - assuming she wasn't just out of her mind altogether.

Regardless, now wasn't the time to make a scene about it. She followed Norah's directions to the washroom and cleaned up as best she could before the promised meal, trying all the while to figure out what explanation they could give for their presence.

Anthony jogged along with the rest of the party from Ditto Town, trying to decide. Was this a dream or not? He'd assumed it was, and it was a good dream, right until they'd walked out of the tavern. He was glad the sheriff had suggested something to break the tension. Still--there was something odd about how quickly things had gone from friendly song-swapping to cold-eyed suspicion.

Maybe if he could get a word with Harry alone... the insurance agent seemed harmless enough, and not prone to pointing the business end of a rifle at people. He might be able to explain who did what to whom and why.

Anthony tipped his hat to the woman on the porch at the Thamer House. "Evenin,' ma'am."

She nodded back, neither overly friendly nor hostile, before stepping inside behind the group and explaining about washing and eating and sleeping. The prices for room and board were clearly painted on a sign over the guestbook, and Anthony signed himself in before taking his turn at the wash basin, humming under his breath.

Little Tommy Tucker, singing for his supper...

Along with wanting a fancy suit, which he'd gotten, Anthony had fancied himself with the skills of a master detective. He grinned. There were opportunities for everything here!