The Other Side Of The Wardrobe, 3: Pretend she hadn't heard, and possibly get in trouble later? Or go see what he wants, and miss and opportunity to see Max? She dithered a moment too long, and the Emeritus made it into the library. "There you are, Peg. I knew I'd heard you in here. Expect you were wondering whether you should respond to me at all, no doubt." The Emeritus hardly looked a frail old man who'd become bedridden. He was six feet tall, a tall man for these times and still broad in the shoulder and strong in the back. His hair was cut short in deference to a hairline that had only just started receding, but he grew his beard-- still more black than white or gray-- longer than was fashionable nowadays. He wore, today, heavy boots meant for outdoor work, thick woolen pants, and an overcoat. The clothes were dated, decades out of style, not as finely made as the Farrier Street tailors would be able to do now. But that suited the Emeritus, and fueled the stories about him.