So she went boldly in (because Aunt Mary knew it was some kind of a riddle or something and didn’t answer), and said to the Man with the Growly Voice, “How can anybody name days? There are only seven and they’re already named--Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Then it begins all over again.” That must have been the answer to the joke, for Aunt Mary laughed, and the Man with the Growly Voice laughed, and the first thing Maida knew she was sitting on his knee, all comfy and happy. Well, the Man with the Growly Voice was an Arctic Explorer--if you know what that means. If you don’t, I’ll tell you. It’s a man who wants to go away up North so far that his next step will start him South; and he had just come back from the land where it is always Winter. Somehow Maida found him the nicest grown-up she had ever met, he was so interested in everything she said, and somehow when she was cuddled against his big arm, with her nose nestled against his breast it was so easy to explain that she was tired--oh, so tired of being a little girl; and tell him all her troubles. He listened to every word and then he told her about the _Wishing Post_. He had really seen it many, many times--he had made ever so many wishes and all but one had come true and he had great hopes of _that_. He must have told Aunt Mary about the wish for she seemed so interested. [Illustration: Growly Voice Eats Snowballs] Then the Man with the Growly Voice told Maida lots and lots of other things,--not stories mind you, true tales. He had been so long in the cold North that he could only sleep in the refrigerator, and he had to eat icicles and snowballs all the time because he was used to them. Then he told her of the Eskimos; funny little tame Indians who guard the North Pole, with great white bears, so no one can steal it, and when he dined with them they gave him nothing to eat but ice-cream. [Illustration: Aunt Mary Gets a Sealskin Coat]