Lyra and aking care to keep to one side, out of sigc tables t ran tc little lig ready for ts. Portraits of former Masters  tcepped up beside table. t silver, and teen seats  oak benc ma cushions.

    Lyra stopped beside ters c glass gently he hall.

    “Youre not taking this seriously,” whispered her daemon. “Behave yourself.”

    alaimon, and ly in t to she hall.

    “too muco chen,” Lyra whispered back.

    “And te come in till t bell. Stop fussing.”

    But s al anyalaimon fluttered aly open door of tiring Room at ter a moment he appeared again.

    “t  be quick.”

    Croucable, Lyra darted along and to tiring Room,  in  blaze of logs settled sligain of sparks up into t of  iring Room before: only Scs  clean in  lers job alone.

    Pantalaimon settled on her shoulder.

    “happy now? Can we go?” he whispered.

    “Dont be silly! I  to look around!”

    It able of polisood various decanters and glasses, and a silver smoking stand h a rack of pipes.

    On a sideboard nearby ttle c of poppy heads.

    “t th.

    S in one of t ucked o look at traits on tared out of their frames in solemn disapproval.

    “ dyou talk about?” Lyra said, or began to say, because before sion sside the door.

    “Bealaimon, and in a flas of t. It  t one for hiding behind:

    ser of t very quiet...

    t c dorousers and s .

    t?”

    It er. As Lyra s daemon (a dog, like all servants daemons) trot in and sit quietly at , and ters