“Well, the King then called a council of Wise Men together, to consider what should be done with the Grey Pumpkin. Some were for keeping it in a museum (and charging a fee of 6d. for visitors to go and look at it); while others advised burying it away in the deepest dungeon of the City, just in case the dwarf ever got out of the Pumpkin; while a third section of the Council, deriding the two former suggestions, urged that the Grey Pumpkin be flung into a ditch beside the High Road, outside the City Gates. The spokesman for this last section was a brilliant, reckless young man, an eloquent speaker; he laughed at the caution which prompted the first two parties to suggest a museum or a dungeon, and looked upon the latter as a grave reflection on the Magician who had so kindly come to their aid. Did they not trust in the spell which kept the Pumpkin tightly closed? he asked the Council. And besides, what person, dwarf, man, woman, or child, would be alive after being shut up in a Pumpkin for twenty-four hours? No, let them show their scorn for the thing by flinging it away, outside the walls of their City.
“Much more than this did the young man say, and in the end he gained his way. The Grey Pumpkin was carried to the gates of the City, escorted by a solemn procession, and thrown into a ditch outside the walls, amid much hissing and booing from the populace. The young Councillor who had suggested all this got carried away by the excitement of the moment, and he dashed forward and gave the Grey Pumpkin that was lying quietly at the bottom of the ditch a good hearty kick: this act was greeted with cheers and shouts of approval from the crowd, until they saw that the Pumpkin, which had been sent spinning, had landed on the High Road, a dozen yards away, and was slowly rolling down the hill. The crowd fell silent, and watched. On, on the Grey Pumpkin rolled, down the hill from the City, past my cottage door—I remember—on, on, until it disappeared at length into a dark forest right down at the bottom of the High Road.
“And after that, all our troubles began. The dwarf kept his vow, and made us suffer. Somewhere, down in that dark forest, he got hold of some black magic—no one knows how, or who helped him. All we know is that since that time he has become possessed of certain magic powers, and that one misfortune after another has overtaken our country—all caused by the Pumpkin. Wherever he goes he makes misery and mischief: I cannot tell you all the horrible things he has done, he and his little band of followers—those faithful few who helped him in the beginning to destroy the pumpkins, you remember. They went right over to his side after they were punished, and he seemed to gain some evil influence over them. There are not many of them, but they are in all parts of the country, ready to help him when he needs them. And with his knowledge of magic he could so disguise them that we could not recognize them. But they are powerless without him, and when after suffering him for a long time (because we could not find a way to escape him) we finally discovered a way of banishing the Grey Pumpkin out of our World into your World where he could do no harm, his followers became practically harmless, until to-day.
“That is the story of how the Grey Pumpkin came to be what he is. The King, whom he hated, has been dead many years and another King reigns in his stead. And the young Councillor, the eloquent young Councillor who advised the people so unwisely, was banished from Court; he has grown old and timid and querulous, and is a disappointed man whose career was blighted at the outset through the Pumpkin. You have seen this once reckless, dashing young man; you met him just now in the wood. He is Glan’s father.”
CHAPTER VI
The Black Leaf
“What dreadful things the Pumpkin must do,” said Molly, “to make every one so frightened of him.”
“He does do dreadful things,” said old Nancy.
“What a mean revenge—on innocent people,” Jack commented.
“And the worst part of it is,” Old Nancy continued, “that no one knows how much evil power he has, nor what he can do to them if he likes. He evidently has his limits, for there seem to be some things that he cannot do: for instance, he cannot roll along quickly—he always moves at the same slow pace; and he cannot climb up walls or trees, though he can roll up hills. So as long as you keep out of his reach he cannot hurt you.”
“If he never comes out of the Pumpkin—the little Dwarf—what does he do when he catches any one?” inquired Molly.
“Just rolls up to them and touches them—bumps against them softly—and then—something queer happens to them. Perhaps they are changed into some strange animal, or maybe they shrink until they are only a few inches high, or suddenly they find they have lost their nose or their eyesight—or worse things than these may happen. The misery caused by the Pumpkin is unthinkable; and more often than not—incurable.”
“Oh,” shuddered Molly. “Well, however did you manage to get rid of him?—to send him into our World?”
“I was just going to tell you about that,” said Old Nancy. There was a moment’s pause, then, “I am a kind of magician, you know,” she went on. The children glanced quickly up at her, startled at her words, but her gentle face reassured them as she smiled kindly down. “And being a kind of magician I discovered a spell that would send the Pumpkin out of our country into the Impossible World. So I turned him into a pincushion, a grey pincushion, and transported him into your World, where I thought he could do no harm; and you know what happened there. I believed we were rid of him for ever, and we would have been—but for me. It was part of the spell that every evening at sunset I should stand with my face turned to the sinking sun, and, making a certain sign with my arms outstretched, should repeat some magic words. As long as I did this each evening the Pumpkin could not come back, and our country was safe. But I knew that if I chanced to be a minute after sunset any evening the spell which bound the Pumpkin would break, and he would return to us.” A sorrowful look came over Old Nancy’s face. “And to-night,” she said, “I failed to say the magic words at sunset—and he has come back. I am certain it is one of the Pumpkin’s followers who has foiled me; though how—I do not know.”
“Can’t you use the spell and turn him into a pincushion again?” asked Jack.
“No,” said Old Nancy, shaking her head. “That spell could only be used once, and once only; and I know no others.”
“Then however can we——” began Jack.
“Patience,” said Old Nancy. “There is one way of thwarting the Pumpkin which everybody in our country knows of. But they can’t do it, because they can’t find the Black Leaf.... You must know that when the little dwarf was thrust into the Pumpkin, the plant in the dwarf’s garden on which the Pumpkin had grown, immediately turned black. For thirteen days it remained so, bearing one solitary giant leaf—then, all at once it vanished! And now, each year it comes up in a different part of the country—just this one immense Black Leaf—and it remains for thirteen days, and then it disappears again. We have not looked for it these last few years—there has been no need: still, some people have seen it. But now we want it badly. For if you can find the Black Leaf, and pluck it, you have but to turn your face to the West and say some words (which I can tell you) and wherever the Pumpkin is he will be compelled to come to you: then you must touch him with the Leaf and—you have him in your power. We were in despair before, when no one could find the Black Leaf, until I discovered that spell. And now, as I know no other spell we shall be in despair till someone does find the Black Leaf. And that is what I want you both to stay and help us do. Strangers are often lucky.”
“Oh, we must stay and help,” cried Jack, impulsively, “mustn’t we, Molly?”
“I should love to,” said Molly, “but couldn’t we just let Mother know so that she wouldn’t be anxious?”
“If you decide to stay,” said Old Nancy, “I will take care that your Mother is not worried in any way by your absence. I will send a message to her.”
“Then we’ll stay,” decided both children at once.
“I am so glad,” Old Nancy said simply. “And now, if either of you should be lucky enough to find the Black Leaf remember what to do. Pluck it immediately, and stand with your face toward the West, and say: ‘Come to me, Grey Pumpkin! I command you by the Black Leaf!’ ... You can remember that?”
Jack and Molly repeated it to make sure, and then Old Nancy went on,
“When the Pumpkin appears—as he must appear—rolling toward you, touch him with the Leaf, quickly, before he can touch you. Then he cannot harm you, but will be compelled to follow you wherever you lead him.”
“And where should we lead him?” asked Molly.
“Bring him to me,” said Old Nancy grimly.
“There was something I wanted to ask you,” said Jack, “and I can’t think what it was now.... Oh, I know.... Does the Pumpkin know where the Black Leaf is?”
“We are not quite sure about that, but even if he does, it is evidently of no use to him; I mean, he dare not touch it—that would be fatal to him. But he can guard it, if he knows where it is, and try to prevent you getting it: and this is what he will try to do whether he knows where it is or not; he is sure to try to delay you or trap you, as soon as he discovers that you are searching for the Leaf. And he will soon know what you are trying to do—one of his followers will tell him, you may be sure. So, beware of the Pumpkin and his little band of people. You are in less danger of being caught by the Pumpkin than you are by one of his band, because you will know the Pumpkin when you see him, but you won’t know which are his decoys, his spies, and which are not. And I can’t help you about this, you must simply be very, very careful, and do not trust anyone until you are sure. Of course, people like Glan and his father, or anyone inside the City, are quite all right—because nobody will be allowed within the City Gates now without a pass; and they cannot get a pass, if they are one of the Pumpkin’s people.”
“Mightn’t one of the Pumpkin’s people find the Leaf?” inquired Jack.
“They dare not touch it either, even if they do know where it is,” replied Old Nancy. “But they can guard it—as the Pumpkin can.”
“If the Black Leaf only appears for thirteen days each year, how do you know which thirteen days they are?” asked Molly, thoughtfully.
“Because the thirteen days start on the anniversary of the day on which the little dwarf was put inside the Pumpkin,” said Old Nancy. “And, as fate decrees, it was the anniversary yesterday, so the Black Leaf is somewhere above ground now.... Oh, I do hope and trust you will be successful, my dears.” Old Nancy clasped her hands together nervously. “And don’t be ashamed to run if the Pumpkin tries to catch you before the Leaf is found. You are powerless against him and his magic—until you have the Leaf. But he can only use his magic and hurt you if he touches you, remember. So don’t let him touch you!”
“We’ll run all right, if we see him coming,” said Jack. “Or else we’ll climb up a tree or something.”
“Well, that’s a good idea, too,” said Old Nancy.
“I suppose it’s really a rather—dangerous sort of work we’re going to do,” said Molly.
“It is dangerous, and very brave of you to attempt it,” Old Nancy said. “It needs courage and perseverance. I think you both have pluck, and you both have perseverance; somehow I think one—but only one of you will be successful.”
“Which one?” cried Jack and Molly eagerly.
“Ah!” Old Nancy replied, and shook her head mysteriously. “I cannot tell you any more than that.... But now we must get to work immediately. There is no time to be lost. Wait here for a moment.”
She rose, and smiling at the children, made her way across the firelit room and passed out through a doorway at the far end of the room.
Jack and Molly sat still and gazed silently round the shadowy room. They could never afterward describe the feeling that came over them, alone in that room—even to themselves. They were not afraid. A curious feeling crept over them, and they both felt sure that there was something or someone in the room with them, although they felt equally sure there was no one. There was an air of mystery and secrecy in the room. No shadows danced on walls quite in the way that they danced in Old Nancy’s room; no smoke curled in such weird and fantastic shapes as the smoke that curled up the wide chimney in front of them; while it almost seemed ridiculous to say that the chairs were empty when the something in the room crowded into each of them.
“‘I am a kind of magician, you know,’” repeated Molly softly, nodding her head at Jack. “Do you know I can feel that she is.”
“So can I,” whispered Jack, hoarsely. The children looked at each other seriously for a few seconds, then they turned their heads, and saw that Old Nancy was standing in the doorway watching them. She came forward into the firelight, and they saw that she carried two small satchels in her hands. They were something like the children’s school satchels, only they were smaller and stronger in appearance, being made of soft black leather; they had long straps attached to them, to pass over the shoulders.
“These are your knapsacks,” said Old Nancy, smiling. “You will find them useful on your journey. This is yours,” she said to Molly, “and this is yours,” to Jack. “Now if you will open them and take out what is inside, I will explain what they are meant for.”
The children thanked her and eagerly unbuckled their satchels and felt inside. The contents of each were the same: a sealed envelope, a box of matches, and a little packet of square, brown things that looked like caramels.
“Inside the envelopes are your Passes into the City. Give them up at the City Gates. Take care of them, without them they would not let you in. The matches in those two boxes are not quite ordinary matches—though they look like ordinary ones. I think they’ll help you over one or two difficulties. Use them carefully as there are not many matches in each box. Whatever you do don’t light them in the daytime, but light them when you are in the dark and want to see.”
“Do we strike them just in the ordinary way?” asked Molly.
“Just in the ordinary way,” said old Nancy. “And the little brown squares in the packets are for you to eat, should you be very hungry, and unable to obtain food. You will find them wonderfully refreshing—it is something I make specially.... And here,” she continued, turning to Jack, and holding something out to him, “is another shoe for you. I see you have only got one on.”
“Why, so I have,” cried Jack, noticing for the first time that one of his slippers was missing. “Now wherever did I lose that, I wonder!” (Poor little slipper, it takes no part in these adventures, as it is left behind in the Impossible World. It is lying by the fence at the bottom of the children’s garden, you remember.) “I never noticed it before. Thanks awfully, though. This slipper fits splendidly. How did you know my size?”
“Oh, I knew,” Old Nancy laughed, and would say no more.
She helped the children buckle on their satchels, telling them that once they were inside the City they would learn what plans were being made for the search. “I wish I could give you some magic charm to defend you against the Pumpkin,” she said. “But that is impossible. The Black Leaf is the only thing that can harm him, and save us all. Be very careful, dear children.... Ah!” she broke off with a sharp exclamation.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” cried Jack and Molly, as Old Nancy stood gazing at her left hand which she held out in front of her.
“So that’s how it was done,” she cried. “Look! Look!” and she held her hand toward them. A dark grey mark stained the middle finger from base to tip.
“What is it?” Molly repeated.
“The stain,” whispered Old Nancy excitedly, “do you see? It’s grey! The Grey Pumpkin’s mark! It was one of his spies then, who made me sleep through the sunset hour. But why to-day should they have been able to do this, when they have been powerless for so long?” she muttered to herself. “Could anything have happened to the Pumpkin in—in your world, that enabled him to exert his evil magic all the way into our world, and so the spies were able to begin their black magic again? Can you think of anything that happened?” she asked Molly eagerly.
Molly tried hard to think of something. “Of course, as it was a pincushion—I stuck a pin in it,” she said presently.
Old Nancy gazed at her strangely. “In the moonlight?” she asked. “Was the moonlight shining on it when you stuck the pin in?”
“Yes,” said Molly, nervously. “Oh, did that do it? Oh, I am so dreadfully sorry—then it is all my fault that the Pumpkin has returned?”
“No, no,” said Old Nancy, “you are not to blame. How were you to know? It was my fault for not being more careful, then they could not have drugged me.” She crossed quickly to the window. “Yes—see—here—here on the sill. There’s a trace of grey powder. I know what has happened. When I went out of this room earlier in the evening—I did for a few minutes, I remember—yes, just before sunset time—someone must have opened the window and scattered the powder on the sill, hoping that I should go to the window at sunset and that I should put my hand on the sill and touch the powder. And I did. And the powder must have been magic and made me go to sleep. I wonder I never noticed it.... But never mind now, never mind now.... It is too late. We must get to work at once to remedy the evil.”
But Molly still had a feeling that it was partly her fault and she was glad that she and Jack had decided to stay. She felt it was the least they could do—to try to find the Black Leaf.
As Glan had not returned they decided to start out, for the hour was getting late, and Old Nancy thought it would be wiser for them to be inside the City as soon as possible. She told them that they were almost sure to meet Glan on the hill—he had evidently been delayed—they couldn’t miss him.
“Good-bye, dears, good-bye,” said Old Nancy. “My thoughts will be constantly with you till we meet again. Good luck go with you both.”
Leaving Old Nancy standing in the doorway, with the firelight glowing warmly in the room behind her, the two children started out in the dusk and began to ascend the hill.
CHAPTER VII
Glan Opens the Gate in the
Nick of Time
The children walked briskly, glancing from the City lights to the dark woods on either side of the road. Everything lay quiet and peaceful, and overhead the moon was now visible. It seemed impossible to believe that a cloud of fear hung over the City ahead. As they drew nearer the top of the hill the sound of a bell tolling came floating down to their ears.
“What’s that for, I wonder,” said Molly.
“P’raps it’s a sort of warning,” suggested Jack, “to tell people the Pumpkin’s back again.”
Molly shivered. “Let’s hurry a bit more, shall we?” she said. “I’ll be glad when we’re inside the City, won’t you, Jack?”
So they quickened their footsteps.
“I do hope we meet Glan,” Molly went on. “We couldn’t very well miss him, though, could we?... You’re sure you’ve got your Pass safely!”
“Rather,” said Jack. “At least I think I put it back in my satchel.” And diving his hand in to make sure, he jerked the envelope which contained the Pass out on to the road. A passing breeze caught it and turned it over and over on the ground, and there was a hurried scramble on Jack’s part to get it back again. He had just put it safely back in his satchel, when a sudden cry from Molly made him wheel round to see what was the matter.
Molly was standing gazing down the hill. “Oh, Jack! Jack! Look!” she cried, pointing to the dark wood on their left. About thirty yards away down the hill, something was slowly emerging from the black shadows of the trees.
It was the Grey Pumpkin.
It rolled leisurely out into the moonlit road, paused for a moment, then turned and moved up the hill toward them.
“Don’t be ashamed to run,” Old Nancy had said. And they were not ashamed. Jack and Molly took to their heels and ran. They did not want to be stopped by the Pumpkin at the very beginning of their quest, knowing how powerless they were until the Black Leaf was found. So they ran with all their might, on, on, until the City Gate was but a little farther ahead of them, and the tolling bell clanged loudly from within.
“Jack, oh, Jack—I—can’t—run—any—more,” gasped poor Molly. “Oh—what—what shall—we—do?”
“Were just there—keep—up—old girl—only a—little—bit more—we’re—just—there,” panted Jack.
With a final effort they rushed forward and reached the gate at last. Jack flung himself against it and started beating on it with his fists, and then snatching up a large stone from the road he hammered it with that; while Molly seized the thick bell chain at the side and began pulling it vigorously.
It was a curious gate—more like a door than a gate—made of solid iron; and at the top, high above the children’s heads, was a tiny grating through which the citizens could see who stood without.
Jack glanced despairingly up at the high white walls and the black iron gate, while he continued to beat wildly with the stone and shout as loudly as he could for help. There seemed no way of escape if they did not open the gate, and looking back he saw the Pumpkin coming silently onward.
“It’s no good making a dash for the woods, Molly,” he exclaimed, “he’d cut us off. Pull harder, and shout too.”
So Molly pulled harder at the bell chain and cried out for someone to come and open the gate and let them in.
Suddenly, above the noise they were making and the sound of the tolling bell within, the children heard voices, and a clattering on the other side of the gate. Then a face appeared at the grating.
“Open the gate!” cried Jack. “Quick! Quick! We’ve got a pass. Open the gate and save us!”
A loud murmuring arose within, and they heard the jangling of keys. When all at once a voice shrieked, “Look! Look! On the hill. It’s the Pumpkin! Don’t open the gate! Don’t open the gate, it’s a decoy!”
“It’s not, it’s not,” cried Jack. “Oh, save us, save us. We have got a pass. Let us in and save us from the Pumpkin. For pity’s sake open the gate!”
The voices inside were now loud and angry; the people were evidently not inclined to believe him.
“Oh, Jack, Jack!” screamed Molly. “He’s just behind us, Jack!”
Jack wheeled round and saw to his horror that the Pumpkin was near the top of the hill and close upon them. He was desperate. Raising the stone above his head, he flung it with all his strength at the big, grey, moving thing. There was a dull thud as the stone struck the Pumpkin and sent it back a few paces; but it quickly came to a standstill, and began at once to cover the ground it had lost.
Meanwhile a fresh arrival had come upon the scene behind the gate. In the midst of all the hubbub, the angry voices, the clanging bell, the pattering feet, there was a moment’s lull, and Jack and Molly could distantly hear the sound of running feet. Then a familiar voice exclaimed: “Hi, there! What’s all the fuss about?”
A score of voices started to explain.
Molly gave a sob of relief, “Oh, it’s Glan!” she cried.
“Glan! Glan!” the children called imploringly. “Open the gate quick and save us. Oh, do be quick!”
Glan’s face appeared at the grating.
“Bless my soul!” he cried in his big voice. “Here, give me the keys! Yes, I know it’s the Pumpkin too, but if we don’t open the gate this instant the little lady outside and her brother will be.... Give me the keys ... give me the keys! Decoys?... Bah!”
There was a jangling of keys again, the sound of a lock being turned, and the huge gate swung back.
Jack and Molly dashed in, and Glan slammed the gate behind them—just in time. Another minute and the Pumpkin would have got through.
“But can’t he open the gate if he just touches it?” cried Jack, tugging Glan’s sleeve excitedly.
“No, no, he can’t do that!” Glan said, shaking his head as he stood on tiptoe to bolt and padlock the gate securely. “Thank goodness there are some limits to his magic!”
Jack and Molly found themselves in the centre of an excited crowd of people who regarded them curiously, but without anger or fear, since Glan had befriended them. Most of them were chattering and waving their hands toward the gate, but some watched the children with narrowed eyes and then whispered behind their hands to their neighbours, while others stood and gazed gloomily at them in silence. They were a picturesque race of people, these citizens of the Possible World, clothed in a bewildering variety of dresses, of no particular style; apparently each person dressed in whichever style took his or her fancy, or which was best suited to the occupation carried on by that person. And this, after all, is the only sensible way to dress. The result of these numerous styles and colours was very pleasing to the eye: at least, so thought Jack and Molly as they gazed round at the animated scene before them.
“Don’t you fret,” said a kindly-looking woman dressed in dark blue with a blue cap on her head and a chain of dull yellow beads round her neck. “We took care to have the gate washed with a magic lotion, and the Pumpkin cannot touch it—nor the gate at the other end of the City—though we have to keep both safely locked in case a friend of the Pumpkin’s were to get in and open the gate for him.” She looked straight into the eyes of first Jack and then Molly—and then she smiled.
By this time Glan had finished locking up the gate, and was handing the keys back to the gate-keeper—a large, pompous-looking gentleman with a brown beard, dressed in a green Robin Hood style of suit—who seemed inclined to be sulky.
“I’m sorry I could not wait for your permission to open the gate,” they heard Glan say. “The matter was urgent, you see. It was the little lady and her brother who are going to try and help us.”
“You’d no right to snatch the keys out of my hand like you did,” replied the gate-keeper sullenly. “You might have got me into no end of trouble, if they had been decoys. Where’s their pass, anyway?”
Glan beckoned to Jack and Molly.
“If you wouldn’t mind giving up your passes to this gentleman,” he said. “Ah, that’s right,” as Jack and Molly handed their envelopes to the gate-keeper, who proceeded to open them and examine the contents carefully.
Then he slowly nodded his head. “All right this time,” he said. “But you be careful in future, young man”; he looked at Glan. “It might have been a very serious matter.”
Glan’s eyes began to twinkle.
“I will certainly profit by your advice,” he said. “I’m extremely sorry I had to snatch the keys, I apologize most humbly, but, of course, you didn’t understand who it was outside, and what danger they were in ... and anyway, all’s well now, isn’t it, sir?”
“Oh, it’s all right this time, as I said before.”
“Thanks,” said Glan. “Well, good-night.... And now,” he turned to the two children, “you must be very, very tired after all that. Will you come along with me to my little place? Father and Aunt Janet will be very pleased to welcome you.”
Jack and Molly assented willingly, and followed Glan closely as he made his way through the crowd. When they reached the outskirts of the knot of people Molly began to thank Glan for coming to their aid at the gate; but he wouldn’t hear of it.
“What else could I do, on my life, little lady?” he said. “I have faith in you both, and the help you are going to give us. I want you to come and have a good rest now, and then in the morning you will be told what part of the country to search, and you can start out at once on your adventures.”
“It seems as if we have already started,” observed Jack. “It seems as if its been all adventures to-day.”
“I think you’re right,” said Glan. “But there’s more to come—though we’ll talk about those to-morrow. You must be too tired to-night. I am very glad you got here all right, I was delayed in coming to meet you—I felt sure, somehow, that you’d decide to stay, after you had heard Old Nancy’s story. And anyway, I should have been half-way down the hill to meet you, only so many people stopped me to know if the bad news was true—that the Pumpkin had returned—and there were such a lot of things to see to, and I had to run home to tell Aunt Janet to get things ready for you—in case you came back with me, so that I reached the gate just in time to let you in.” He stopped a little out of breath.
They had been walking fairly quickly all this time, and the children could now see more clearly what a beautiful City they had entered. Everything glistened, a pure white, in the moonlight. Houses, walls, roofs, chimneys, front doors, gates, pavements, roads—all were white and spotlessly clean. Yet the curious part of it all was, that it was not monotonous to the eye; instead, it seemed to make a fine background for the coloured flowers and trees and dresses of the people. And to-night, the City was full of soft shadows, cast by the objects that stood in the light of the moon, Glan and the two children turned into a narrow, hilly street, down the centre of which ran a sparkling brooklet, that babbled and gurgled as it splashed over its pebbly bed. Most of the houses in this street were quaintly built, with the top part bulging out over the street. And Molly noticed as they passed that all the windows had coloured curtains—in one house all the curtains were blue, in another a deep amber shade, in another a glowing crimson, and so on—which had a very pretty effect, especially if the windows were lit from within. The white houses, the coloured curtains, and the window-boxes full of flowers that adorned each window in the street made a great impression on the children. They thought it all charming, and said so to Glan.
“The Possible World,” he said, then shook his head and held up his finger. The tolling of the bell floated across to them.
“I suppose that’s to warn people, isn’t it?” said Jack.
Glan nodded. “But we’ll soon change its tune, won’t we?” he said. “It’s joy-bells that’ll be ringing next, because the Black Leaf is found. And who will have found it.... Ah, ha!” he winked knowingly, and wagged a fat forefinger at the two children. “What a great day it will be,” he chuckled. “You’ll have to be careful I don’t win, because I’m going to search too, you know ... but we’ll talk all about that in the morning.”
At the top of the hilly street they crossed an open square with a market cross in the centre, and entered another narrow street with bulging houses and shops in it. They met few people now as they continued on their way: many were still down by the West Gate, and others had wended their ways homeward after assuring themselves that the Pumpkin was safely outside the City walls. About half-way up the street Glan came to a halt outside a small shuttered shop, that lay back underneath the frowning brow of the bulging upper story of the building, like a dark deep-set eye. Producing a key from the pocket of his white jacket, Glan placed it in the lock of the side door and opened it quietly.
“I’ll go in first, shall I?” he said. “There’s no light in the passage, and you might fall over something.”
Jack and Molly followed him into the house, and stood hesitating on the mat while he strode down the passage and opened a door at the farther end. A dim light crept out and thinned the darkness. From the room came a low murmur in familiar tones.
“Come along,” called Glan. “Would you mind just shutting the front door. Thanks very much.”
It was a small room at the end of the passage with a round table in the centre of it on which stood a shaded lamp. At the table sat Glan’s father with his elbows resting on a large open book in front of him, while his hands, held to the sides of his head, covered his ears; an expression of profound melancholy was on his face as he gazed at the children on their entrance. Bending over the fireplace was a genial, comfortable-looking, elderly woman, who was stirring something in a saucepan.
“Bless their hearts, how tired they look,” she exclaimed, as she caught sight of the children’s faces.
“It’s the little lady and her brother that I told you about, Aunt Janet,” said Glan. “Is everything ready for them?”
“Yes, my dear,” replied Aunt Janet. “The beds is sweet and aired, and there’s a bowl of hot broth for both of them, bless their innocent souls, which’ll be cooked in a minute or two. Sit you down, dearies, and rest yourselves, and Aunt Janet’ll have things ready in no time for you.”
“They’re sure to be tired,” said Glan. “They were chased up the hill by the Pumpkin,” he added in a lower voice.
But his father had heard. “What was that?” he asked mournfully, taking his hands down from his ears.
So Glan had to explain to him the incident at the gate, and how the Pumpkin nearly got in. The old man listened intently, groaning every time Glan paused for breath, and rolling his eyes whenever the Pumpkin was mentioned by name. At the end of the story he hastily stopped his ears again, and bent over his book muttering faintly that he “couldn’t abide that bell ringing.”
“Poor old father,” said Glan, compassionately, “it does upset him so.”
Jack and Molly were glad of the hot broth, and Aunt Janet, as she fussed about them anxiously, was pleased to see that the steaming bowls were soon emptied.
“Sleep well, for there is hard work before you; but courage—and everything will be well,” said Glan, beaming down at them as he wished them good-night. While his father shook his head mournfully, and sighed as he gave them each a limp hand.
Aunt Janet lit two long candles, and conducted them up a flight of high narrow stairs to the top of the house where there were two small rooms with little white beds, and freshly laundered window curtains.
“Good-night, dearies,” she said. “Blow the candles out safely. I hope you’ll find everything you want here.” Her eyes grew very kind. “I had a little girl and boy once,” she said, “and I know they’d like you to use their things—if they knew—so I’ve put them all out for you. They were just about your age, and I—and they—good-night, dearies,” she stooped suddenly and kissed them each on the forehead.
CHAPTER VIII
Aunt Janet Puts on her Best Bonnet
A sunbeam creeping through the window and along the floor to Molly’s pillow awoke her in the morning; she sat up with a start, puzzled for a moment at the unfamiliar surroundings; then she remembered—and giving a long sigh, snuggled down again for a few more minutes while she thought things over.
How strange it all seemed, just like some wonderful dream, she thought—and yet it was not a dream. Here were she and Jack in the middle of a real, exciting adventure. An adventure in which they were taking an important, and (she hoped) useful part. What would be the result of their search for the Black Leaf? Would either of them find it? And what had Old Nancy meant by saying that she thought only one of them would be successful? Wouldn’t she and Jack be allowed to search together, Molly wondered. She hoped Jack wouldn’t be sent to one part of the country, and she to another. She tried to recall all the information and warnings that had been given to them about the Pumpkin, and the more she recalled, the more difficult the task in front of them appeared to be.
Molly stretched out her arm and fumbled about in the clothes that lay on a chair by the bedside; she presently drew forth the box of matches, Old Nancy’s gift, and proceeded to examine this attentively, it being her first opportunity of doing so. Just an ordinary box of matches—at least, so it appeared—only there was no maker’s name on the outside, simply a dark blue wrapper. There were a dozen matches inside—Molly counted. “I wonder if Jack has got the same number,” she thought. Then hearing a distant clock strike seven, she put the match box back in her satchel and sprang out of bed.
While she was dressing she noticed that the bell which had been tolling solemnly when she fell asleep was now silent.
When Molly was ready to go downstairs she climbed on a chair and looked out of the window into the street below, which was already alive with people moving to and fro on their early morning business. Everything looked so clean and fresh, and the sun was shining, and a breeze greeted Molly, so warm and sweetly scented that all the little doubts and fears that had crowded in on her, trying to cloud her naturally sunny outlook, were suddenly swept clean away, and Molly felt that everything was possible and good on such a perfect morning. She jumped lightly to the ground and ran across the room humming.
A patch of sunshine lay on the floor by the door, and as Molly stopped for a second to do up her shoelace she saw a curious shadow form on the patch. And the shadow was shaped like a pumpkin! Startled, she looked hastily over her shoulder: but there was nothing there. And even as she looked again at the sunlit patch, the shadow passed away.
“Why, it must have been only a cloud, passing before the sun,” she told herself, relieved. “How silly of me.”
But, nevertheless, she felt suddenly depressed; she did not hum any more and she walked slowly downstairs, instead of running with her usual quick step. In passing Jack’s room, the door of which stood wide open, she saw that the room was empty. So Jack had raced her, and was already downstairs.
“Yes, he’s been up this last half-hour, and he’s out in the back garden now,” Aunt Janet informed her. “Did you sleep well, dearie? Run out and tell your brother breakfast’ll be ready in three minutes, will you, dearie?”
And Aunt Janet bustled about between the pantry and the fireplace and the breakfast table, in the little back room. A very tempting breakfast table it looked, too; set for five, and everything so spick and span, from the crisp brown rolls to the long glass vase filled with yellow flowers standing in the centre of the white cloth.
So Molly went in search of Jack, through the open back door into the garden. The garden which was long and narrow, was full of bushes and flowers and little winding paths. At the farthest end stood six tall elm trees in a row, and it was here that Molly spied Jack and Glan’s father, standing, talking earnestly together.
“Hullo, Molly,” called Jack, when he saw her. “Come and look here.”
Molly made her way down the garden, and saw that Jack and the old man were both gazing down at something at the foot of one of the trees. It was a dark red plant-pot filled with dry soil.
“Mr—er—he was just telling me—what do you think, Molly?” said Jack excitedly. “The Black Leaf came up in this plant-pot one year!”
“Oh,” Molly gasped, and gazed at the pot with awe. Such an ordinary plant-pot it looked, with nothing at all about it to suggest that it had ever been connected with any magic.
“Of course, missie,” Glan’s father explained mournfully, “it was no use me a-picking it that year, you see, because there was no Pumpkin to pick it for. Besides,” he added bitterly, “it on’y came up for spite. That’s all—pure spite, I call it—just to taunt me as it were. I couldn’t bide the sight of it—especially as the Pumpkin was out of reach—in—in your World.”
“What would have happened if you had picked it?” asked Jack.
“Nothing would have happened. At the end of the thirteen days it would have withered away, and the plant might not have come up again, perhaps—but I don’t know about that. Still, if it hadn’t, what should we have done this year when we do want it? Eh?”
“Yes,” said Molly. “It is a good job you didn’t pick it, because, supposing it didn’t come up again—I suppose there would have been no hope of getting rid of the Pumpkin this time?”
“Unless Old Nancy had discovered another spell,” suggested Jack.
The old man shook his head dismally, and ran his fingers through his beard.
“No,” he said. “I had a feeling—in my bones—that we should need the Black Leaf some day. I always said the Pumpkin would return from—from your World. And then—and then those dreams I had——”
“Oh, why didn’t the Leaf come up in your plant-pot this year!” sighed Molly.
“Things never happen like that,” mumbled Glan’s father.
“They do sometimes,” said Molly.
But the old man only shook his head.
“There’s Aunt Janet calling us to breakfast,” said Molly. “I was sent out to fetch you. Come along!” And she led the way back indoors again, followed by the other two.
“Now, what have you been doing in the garden?” cried Aunt Janet, catching sight of the three serious faces. “Looking at that old plant-pot again, I’ll be bound. You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” she said, shaking her head at Glan’s father. “Brooding over that miserable old pot—before breakfast, and on such a lovely morning too. If I had my way I’d smash the ugly old thing up and have done with it—though really I believe you enjoy it”—she disregarded the old man’s reproachful glance, and clapped some plates on the table a little impatiently. “What good does it do, brooding over things that are past and gone and can’t be helped! It’s the future we can help, and it’s the future we should give our thought to, and make it better than the past. Glan! Glan! Where’s Glan! Call Glan, somebody. He’s in the shop!”
But Glan had heard, and appeared at that moment through the glass-windowed door that led from the parlour to the shop.
“Good-morning all, good-morning,” he cried, beaming and rubbing his hands together. “What a perfect morning, to be sure. And did the little lady and her brother rest well after the strenuous time they had yesterday?”
“Very well, thank you,” said Molly.
“Slept like a top,” said Jack.
“Ah, that’s right,” said Glan, taking his place at the table, round which the others were already seated. “And what is this our good Aunt has provided? Scrambled eggs! Excellent, excellent indeed. What a perfect morning. Who could feel sad at heart on a day like this!”
He seemed in great spirits, and started to hum as he helped himself to salt, while his father rolled his eyes up leaving only the whites visible, to signify his despair at the incurable cheerfulness of his son.
“Come, come now, and how is father this morning?” Glan continued, pushing his father’s chair closer to the table and tucking a serviette under his fathers chin, for all the world as if he were a baby in a high chair.
“He’s been at that old plant-pot again,” said Aunt Janet.
“Bad wicked man,” smiled Glan, wagging his spoon at his Father, who received all Glan’s bantering remarks with the same stolid expression, and without the flicker of a smile. Jack marvelled at Glan’s perseverance with his Father, when his attempts to cheer him up were always without success. He began to doubt whether the old man could smile, and tried to imagine him doing so—but failed.
“After breakfast,” said Glan, “if he is very good and promises not to pick the currants out of the buns, Father shall mind the shop while the little lady and her brother, and Aunt Janet, and yours faithfully, put on their best bonnets with the bead trimmings, and their elastic-sided boots, and brown cotton gloves”—he gave an elaborate wink at Aunt Janet—“and sally forth to learn what plans are afoot, and to find out what portion of the country we are each to search.”
“Will Jack and I be allowed to go together?” asked Molly, anxiously.
“Certainly, if you wish,” said Glan.
“Of course we’d rather, wouldn’t we, Moll?” said Jack.
And she assented quickly, hoping at the same time that now they would probably both win—or fail together.
When breakfast was finished, and while Aunt Janet went to put on her bead-trimmed bonnet, and elastic-sided boots, and brown cotton gloves, Glan showed the two children over the shop. It contained a most tempting array of sugared cakes and buns and pastries and bread—all of which Glan told them he made himself, in the bakehouse at the side of the shop. The shop was sweet and clean, like the rest of the house, and the sight of Glan, in his white cap and overall, standing behind the counter and beaming cheerfully around him was a sight to lighten the heart of anyone—except Glan’s father.
“It’s fortunate that your Father can look after the place while you are out,” remarked Molly. “But I thought you said he was taken back and given a place at Court, didn’t you? I thought that was why he wore a velvet robe and keys.”
“Quite right,” said Glan, “but it is only a very unimportant position. You see, he’s getting old—he only has to turn up at Court every Tuesday and Friday. It keeps him amused. On his free days he does all sorts of things to fill up his time.... Ah, here he comes,” he continued, as his Father shuffled into the shop. “Now, be very careful, Father, and look after everything nicely while we’re away, won’t you? And here—you’d better wear this or you’ll spoil that lovely velvet robe.”
And Glan whipped off his white apron and made his Father put it on. This, over his gorgeous velvet robe, gave him a comical appearance which was by no means lessened by the melancholy expression on his face. Glan gave a chuckle. With arms akimbo he surveyed his Father with his head on one side, then he chuckled again. Such an irresistible, infectious chuckle it was that Jack and Molly, despite their efforts not to, started to laugh. Glan went on chuckling and laughing, and once having started the three of them continued laughing and could not stop, until the tears came into their eyes, and Jack had a stitch in his side, and Aunt Janet appeared, all ready to start, to see what all the noise was about.
“Poor old Father ... it’s too bad to laugh ... but really ... really ...” and Glan dried his eyes on the sleeve of his white overall, and started to laugh again.
But Glan’s Father could see nothing to laugh at, and had continued dusting the scales slowly and methodically all the time.
“These jam puffs are two a penny, aren’t they?” he asked, quite unconscious of the figure he presented.
“Does your Father ever laugh?” Jack asked, as soon as they were outside the shop.
“Never to my knowledge,” said Aunt Janet, “and I’ve kept house for him these twenty years.”
“I’ve seen him smile—twice—as far as I can remember,” replied Glan. “But that was a long time ago.... Perhaps he’ll laugh one of these days—when we find the Black Leaf?”
They made their way down the street and into the market square, which presented a very different appearance in the daylight from the sleepy, peaceful look it had worn last night in the moonlight. Now it was awake and all was bustle and hurry, with shops open, and people passing to and fro.
“Where did you say we were going first?” asked Jack.
“I didn’t say,” said Glan, “but I should think you might guess by Aunt Janet’s bonnet that it’s somewhere very special.”
“We’re going to the Palace, dearies,” Aunt Janet broke in.
“To the Palace!” exclaimed the children.
“And shall we see the King?” Molly added.
“Of course,” said Glan.
At this moment their attention was attracted by the sound of people running and shouting, and they saw that a big crowd was rapidly gathering round the market cross. “What is it?” “What’s the matter?” people near by were asking each other, and unable to get information they would rush off and join the jostling, excited mob in order to find out for themselves.
“Wait here a moment,” said Glan, “and I’ll go and see. Don’t follow me or we shall lose each other in the crowd. I won’t be long.”
And leaving the children and Aunt Janet standing outside a quaint little tea-shop, he dashed forward and was quickly lost to sight in the surging mass of people that were rushing onward to the market cross. Everyone was simmering with excitement, and Jack and Molly had great difficulty in obeying Glan’s instructions to wait outside for him there, especially whenever a shout or groan of sympathy or indignation rose above the murmuring of the crowd, and told them that something unusual was taking place.
But they waited, and in a few minutes they saw Glan making his way back through the outskirts of the crowd. He hurried toward them, his face unusually grave.
“Come along,” he said, taking each of the children by an arm and hastening them away before they could ask any questions; and he signed to Aunt Janet, who followed behind them as quickly as possible. “Don’t look back. It’s no use. We can’t do anything to help. It’s one of the Pumpkin’s victims, some poor fellow caught by him outside the City walls.”
“What has he done to him?” Jack managed to gasp out.
“Made both his arms disappear, and covered his face with a horrible grey stain. The man looks awful. I’m glad you didn’t see him—we can do nothing to help ... except one thing,” said Glan.
“The Black Leaf?” asked Molly.
CHAPTER IX
Planning the Search
They turned out of the square into a wide avenue, bordered on each side with beautiful trees. At the end of this avenue stood the Palace gates, and behind these, glimpses could be caught of the Palace itself, gleaming white through the trees and bushes which surrounded it and almost hid it from sight of the gates; the only parts which were entirely visible were its four white towers which rose high above the tree tops. Having ascended the flight of wide, marble steps before the gates, the four visitors passed the sentry—who seemed to know Glan quite well—and made their way through the grounds to the main entrance of the Palace.
Jack and Molly were lost in admiration of the beauty of the scene before them. The creeper-clad walls and white towers of the Palace stood in well-wooded grounds through which a little river wandered, sparkling in the sunlight. Along the central avenue that led to the Palace, and up the great wide steps to the main door, there moved a constant stream of people, dressed in all sorts of lovely shades and colours; from a distance you might almost think they were the moving reflections of the flowers that clustered in profusion wherever your eyes turned. Had this been really so, Glan in his white suit might have passed for the reflection of a white stock, perhaps; Molly for a blue and white periwinkle; Jack for a dark blue hyacinth; and Aunt Janet, who was all in brown, for a large autumn leaf.
They joined the moving procession, and as they began to mount the steps Glan explained to the children that all these people were on the same errand as themselves; they had come to offer their help in the organized search that was about to take place. The main doors of the Palace were soon reached and they passed through, and were presently ushered into a spacious hall, panelled with dark oak. (For although the outsides of the buildings in the City were white, the children had already noted that the insides were coloured in many and varied styles.)
The hall was already crowded with people, and on a raised daïs at the far end there sat the King’s Councillors—a group of wise and learned men and women—round a long table. At first Jack and Molly could not see very well, but when a sudden hush fell on the assembly and the people all bowed, the children could see over the bowed heads that some one of importance was entering. They were made sure of this by the nudges of Aunt Janet. And looking up they saw it was the King.
His Majesty was middle-aged and rather tall and well built, and had a strong, clean-shaven face. The children liked his appearance. That he was ‘every inch a king’ could truly be said of him, though he wore no crown or velvet robes as the kings usually did in the children’s story-books at home, but was dressed very simply in a suit that reminded Jack vaguely of an admiral’s uniform.
“What a decent sort he looks,” whispered Jack to Molly.
After a few words of welcome to the people the King called upon one of the Councillors—a shrewd little man with tufty white whiskers—to tell the true story of the Pumpkin’s return to the Possible World, which the Councillor did, having obtained a full account from Old Nancy. The only question which still remained unsolved was: Who was the traitor who had drugged Old Nancy, and so aided the Pumpkin to return? This mystery, he said, they hoped to clear up when the Black Leaf was found.
When he had finished his story and had sat down, a buzz of murmuring voices filled the hall, and people turned to one another commenting on the story about Old Nancy which they had just been told, and comparing notes on the exaggerated versions of the tale that had reached them from various quarters.
Silence fell as the King rose again. After a few comments on the Pumpkin’s return, he began to speak of the plans for searching, which he and the Councillors had discussed at an emergency meeting early this morning.
“To make sure that every likely inch of ground is searched,” he said, “we have taken a map of the City and the outlying country, as far as the boundaries of this kingdom extend—and this is the only kingdom in which the Black Leaf can grow, remember—and we have divided this map into a number of small squares. Now what we want you each to do is to choose a square of the map, which you may take away with you—and search thoroughly every inch of the ground marked.
“In this way the Black Leaf must be found sooner or later—unless there is any careless searching or delay in searching. For, remember, we have only eleven days left before the Black Leaf disappears—and if it is not found before then the Pumpkin will remain with us for a year until the Leaf appears again and another search can be made.
“Those who volunteer outside the City are advised to search in couples, as the Pumpkin will be a constant source of danger to a person alone, whereas, if there are two of you, one can always keep watch while the other searches difficult places, or rests for a while.”
And here the King said a special word of warning regarding decoys and traps set by the Pumpkin in order to hinder the searchers, and then went on to explain what should be done if the Black Leaf was found, repeating the words that Jack and Molly had already heard from Old Nancy.
“As soon as it is known that the Black Leaf is found,” the King continued, “signals will be given throughout the country, so that all the searchers can cease, and make their way back to the City and the hill by Old Nancy’s cottage, in order to witness the Pumpkin’s punishment. These signals will be given by means of beacon fires which will be lit on the hill tops near and far. And when the glad news reaches the City all the bells will be set ringing.”
“Your Majesty, would it be possible for one of the Pumpkin’s friends to start the first beacon blazing, before the Leaf was found, in order to stop the searchers?” some one in the hall inquired.
“No,” replied the King. “Because we are so arranging it that only the person who has actually plucked the Black Leaf, and has it in his or her hand, can set a light to the first beacon. Each beacon is being specially guarded ... well, I will admit that we have called in the aid of Old Nancy to help us in the guarding of them. So you may rest assured that none of the Pumpkin’s friends will be able to touch the beacons.... So, whoever finds the Black Leaf, remember to set the nearest beacon on fire before starting back to Old Nancy, that we may all know the good news at the earliest possible moment.”
The King concluded by asking for volunteers to search outside the City and inside the City to come forward and sign their names in the book which had been placed on a table half-way along the hall.
“The Pumpkin has already, in the last few hours, caused much sorrow,” he said sadly. “Let us make certain that this is the last time he shall ever bring disaster and misery to our country. Let us put our best efforts into this scheme for finding the Black Leaf, and so banish for all time the Grey Pumpkin.”
He sat down amid a great cheer which came from the hearts of the people in the crowded hall. It was obvious that the King was very popular. The people pressed forward eagerly to sign their names, and Jack and Molly together with Glan and Aunt Janet were among the foremost to signify their willingness to help. Both the children caught the wave of enthusiasm which swept through the hall, and felt that here was a country and a King well worth working for. And their dislike of the Pumpkin who would spoil everything grew more intense.
“I’m afraid I can only volunteer to search inside the City,” said Aunt Janet to the children as they turned away from the table. “I can’t walk very far without getting a bit tired. And as for running—I couldn’t—not if fifty Pumpkins were after me.”
“I think it’s jolly sporty of you to offer at all,” said Jack.
“Oh, we all want to do what we can, dearie,” she smiled.
The four of them moved on and joined a group of people who were examining one of the large maps of the City and surrounding country which were hanging round the room. They had begun to discuss what part of the country would be the best for them to search, when they heard, much to their surprise, someone call out the names of the two children in a loud voice. Turning quickly they saw that the King had the big book of names in front of him, and with his finger to a name on the page, was looking round the room. It was one of the Councillors near him who had called out their names, evidently at the King’s request. Before the children could wonder what they ought to do, the King spoke:
“I see,” he said, “that we have two friends from the Impossible World who have kindly offered to help us. I should like to thank them personally. Strangers are often lucky!”
Some one started a cheer which was quickly taken up by the entire hall full of people, and Jack and Molly, both blushing furiously at this unexpected attention, were pushed forward by Glan and Aunt Janet, to the foot of the raised daïs where the King greeted them, welcoming them to the country, and warmly shaking hands with them. They chatted together for a few minutes, the King asking many questions about the Impossible World.
“But, ah me!” the King said. “I am afraid this will be the Impossible World now that the Pumpkin’s returned.”
“We will soon make it Possible again, your Majesty,” said Molly. “If it is in our power to do so.”
“I’m sure we shall all do our best,” said the King. “Now which part of the country would you prefer to search?”
The children said they did not mind, as all the country was strange and fresh to them, and asked his Majesty if he thought the Leaf was more likely to be outside the City than inside.
“Of course, one can never be sure, but I think it’s much more likely to be outside the City than inside,” the King replied. “But still it may be inside! We shall make a thorough search inside, naturally: in every garden, and street, and plant-pot, and window-box—everywhere, in every place likely and unlikely.”
When the children heard that the Leaf was more likely to be outside they at once made up their minds. Outside the City walls they would search, Jack and Molly together. And so it was arranged.
They chose a little square of the country that lay outside the East Gate of the City. It was entirely fresh country to them, and Molly liked the names given to that part of the country. Down the Three Green Lanes, over Goblin’s Heath, through the Orange Wood, and the country along the banks of a broad river to Lake Desolate, and the Brown Hills. Although these names were all marked in one little square on the map it was really a good many miles—especially when every likely part must be carefully gone over and examined.
After Jack and Molly had received their small square of map, Glan stepped forward to pick his square. He shook hands and chatted with the King for a second, and then stood before the map trying to make up his mind. While he was deciding, tracing along the map with his plump white forefinger, the children stood aside watching the stream of people passing to and fro, choosing their square of map, shaking hands with the King, and passing on and out of the great door at the end of the hall. Most of them had a friendly smile and nod for Jack and Molly as they went by, and several came up to the children, and shook hands with them, thanking them for offering to help their country in this trouble.
At length, after Glan had chosen, and helped Aunt Janet to choose her bit, and shaken hands excitedly with everybody round about (including Aunt Janet, by mistake), he, Aunt Janet, Jack, and Molly bade farewell to the King and made their way out of the Palace. They retraced their steps through the Palace grounds, passing the sentry at the gate, and went toward the Market Square again. Glan and Aunt Janet insisted on showing the children the way to the East Gate, and so the four went along talking eagerly, the children full of enthusiasm for the coming search, for the King, and for the Possible World.
“I’ve got a big forest to search in my bit,” said Glan. “I like forests. And I’m arranging for father to help me if he feels inclined—on the days when he’s not at Court. I wish I could have got a bit to search outside the East Gate—so as to be near you both—but all the bits I wanted were already taken by other people. Fortunately, though, I’ve managed to get a square that backs on to a piece of the ground you’ll be searching—though I start from the West Gate. You see the wood bends round at this point——” and he compared his square of map with Jack and Molly’s square, and showed them where his ground touched theirs. “So I shan’t be so very far away,” he laughed. “You can’t get rid of me, altogether.”
“I’m sure we don’t want to,” said Molly.