The Magic City

by E. Nesbit

  CHAPTER II

  DELIVERER OR DESTROYER

  Philip stood in the shadow of the dark arch and looked out. He sawbefore him a great square surrounded by tall irregular buildings. In themiddle was a fountain whose waters, silver in the moonlight, rose andfell with gentle plashing sound. A tall tree, close to the archway, castthe shadow of its trunk across the path--a broad black bar. He listened,listened, listened, but there was nothing to listen to, except the deepnight silence and the changing soft sound the fountain made.

  His eyes, growing accustomed to the dimness, showed him that he wasunder a heavy domed roof supported on large square pillars--to the rightand left stood dark doors, shut fast.

  'I will explore these doors by daylight,' he said. He did not feelexactly frightened. But he did not feel exactly brave either. But hewished and intended to be brave, so he said, 'I will explore thesedoors. At least I think I will,' he added, for one must not only bebrave but truthful.

  And then suddenly he felt very sleepy. He leaned against the wall, andpresently it seemed that sitting down would be less trouble, and thenthat lying down would be more truly comfortable. A bell from very veryfar away sounded the hour, twelve. Philip counted up to nine, but hemissed the tenth bell-beat, and the eleventh and the twelfth as well,because he was fast asleep cuddled up warmly in the thick quilteddressing-gown that Helen had made him last winter. He dreamed thateverything was as it used to be before That Man came and changedeverything and took Helen away. He was in his own little bed in his ownlittle room in their own little house, and Helen had come to call him.He could see the sunlight through his closed eyelids--he was keepingthem closed just for the fun of hearing her try to wake him, andpresently he would tell her he had been awake all the time, and theywould laugh together about it. And then he awoke, and he was not in hissoft bed at home but on the hard floor of a big, strange gate-house, andit was not Helen who was shaking him and saying, 'Here--I say, wake up,can't you,' but a tall man in a red coat; and the light that dazzled hiseyes was not from the sun at all, but from a horn lantern which the manwas holding close to his face.

  'What's the matter?' said Philip sleepily.

  'That's the question,' said the man in red. 'Come along to theguard-room and give an account of yourself, you young shaver.'

  He took Philip's ear gently but firmly between a very hard finger andthumb.

  'Leave go,' said Philip, 'I'm not going to run away.' And he stood upfeeling very brave.

  The man shifted his hold from ear to shoulder and led Philip through oneof those doors which he had thought of exploring by daylight. It was notdaylight yet, and the room, large and bare, with an arch at each end andnarrow little windows at the sides, was lighted by horn lanterns andtall tapers in pewter candlesticks. It seemed to Philip that the roomwas full of soldiers.

  Their captain, with a good deal of gold about him and a very smart blackmoustache, got up from a bench.

  'Look what I've caught, sir,' said the man who owned the hand onPhilip's shoulder.

  'Humph,' said the captain, 'so it's really happened at last.'

  'Here--I say, wake up, can't you?']

  'What has?' said Philip.

  'Why, you have,' said the captain. 'Don't be frightened, little man.'

  'I'm not frightened,' said Philip, and added politely, 'I should be somuch obliged if you'd tell me what you mean.' He added something whichhe had heard people say when they asked the way to the market or thepublic gardens, 'I'm quite a stranger here,' he said.

  A jolly roar of laughter went up from the red-coats.

  'It isn't manners to laugh at strangers,' said Philip.

  'Mind your own manners,' said the captain sharply; 'in this countrylittle boys speak when they're spoken to. Stranger, eh? Well, we knewthat, you know!'

  Philip, though he felt snubbed, yet felt grand too. Here he was in themiddle of an adventure with grown-up soldiers. He threw out his chestand tried to look manly.

  The captain sat down in a chair at the end of a long table, drew a blackbook to him--a black book covered with dust--and began to rub a rustypen-nib on his sword, which was not rusty.

  'Come now,' he said, opening the book, 'tell me how you came here. Andmind you speak the truth.'

  'I _always_ speak the truth,' said Philip proudly.

  All the soldiers rose and saluted him with looks of deep surprise andrespect.

  'Well, nearly always,' said Philip, hot to the ears, and the soldiersclattered stiffly down again on to the benches, laughing once more.Philip had imagined there to be more discipline in the army.

  'How did you come here?' said the captain.

  'Up the great bridge staircase,' said Philip.

  The captain wrote busily in the book.

  'What did you come for?'

  'I didn't know what else to do. There was nothing but illimitableprairie--and so I came up.'

  'You are a very bold boy,' said the captain.

  'Thank you,' said Philip. 'I do _want_ to be.'

  'What was your purpose in coming?'

  'I didn't do it on purpose--I just happened to come.'

  The captain wrote that down too. And then he and Philip and the soldierslooked at each other in silence.

  'Well?' said the boy.

  'Well?' said the captain.

  'I do wish,' said the boy, 'you'd tell me what you meant by my reallyhappening after all. And then I wish you'd tell me the way home.'

  'Where do you want to get to?' asked the captain.

  'The _address_,' said Philip, 'is The Grange, Ravelsham, Sussex.'

  'Don't know it,' said the captain briefly, 'and anyhow you can't go backthere now. Didn't you read the notice at the top of the ladder?Trespassers will be prosecuted. You've got to be prosecuted beforeyou can go back anywhere.'

  'I'd rather be persecuted than go down that ladder again,' he said.'I suppose it won't be very bad--being persecuted, I mean?'

  His idea of persecution was derived from books. He thought itto be something vaguely unpleasant from which one escaped indisguise--adventurous and always successful.

  'That's for the judges to decide,' said the captain, 'it's a seriousthing trespassing in our city. This guard is put here expressly toprevent it.'

  'Do you have many trespassers?' Philip asked. The captain seemed kind,and Philip had a great-uncle who was a judge, so the word judges madehim think of tips and good advice, rather than of justice andpunishment.

  'Many trespassers indeed!' the captain almost snorted his answer.'That's just it. There's never been one before. You're the first. Foryears and years and years there's been a guard here, because when thetown was first built the astrologers foretold that some day there wouldbe a trespasser who would do untold mischief. So it's ourprivilege--we're the Polistopolitan guards--to keep watch over the onlyway by which a trespasser could come in.'

  'May I sit down?' said Philip suddenly, and the soldiers made room forhim on the bench.

  'My father and my grandfather and all my ancestors were in the guards,'said the captain proudly. 'It's a very great honour.'

  'I wonder,' said Philip, 'why you don't cut off the end of yourladder--the top end I mean; then nobody could come up.'

  'That would never do,' said the captain, 'because, you see, there'sanother prophecy. The great deliverer is to come that way.'

  'Couldn't I,' suggested Philip shyly, 'couldn't I be the delivererinstead of the trespasser? I'd much rather, you know.'

  'I daresay you would,' said the captain; 'but people can't be deliverersjust because they'd much rather, you know.'

  'And isn't any one to come up the ladder bridge except just those two?'

  'We don't know; that's just it. You know what prophecies are.'

  'I'm afraid I don't--exactly.'

  'So vague and mixed up, I mean. The one I'm telling you about goessomething like this.

  Who comes up the ladder stair? Beware, beware, Steely eyes and copper hair Strife and grief and pain t
o bear All come up the ladder stair.

  You see we can't tell whether that means one person or a lot of peoplewith steely eyes and copper hair.'

  'My hair's just plain boy-colour,' said Philip; 'my sister says so, andmy eyes are blue, I believe.'

  'I can't see in this light;' the captain leaned his elbows on the tableand looked earnestly in the boy's eyes. 'No, I can't see. The otherprophecy goes:

  From down and down and very far down The king shall come to take his own; He shall deliver the Magic town, And all that he made shall be his own. Beware, take care. Beware, prepare, The king shall come by the ladder stair.

  'How jolly,' said Philip; 'I love poetry. Do you know any more?'

  'There are heaps of prophecies of course,' said the captain; 'theastrologers must do _something_ to earn their pay. There's rather a niceone:

  Every night when the bright stars blink The guards shall turn out, and have a drink As the clock strikes two. And every night when no stars are seen The guards shall drink in their own canteen When the clock strikes two.

  To-night there aren't any stars, so we have the drinks served here. It'sless trouble than going across the square to the canteen, and theprinciple's the same. Principle is the great thing with a prophecy, myboy.'

  'Yes,' said Philip. And then the far-away bell beat again. One, two. Andoutside was a light patter of feet.

  A soldier rose--saluted his officer and threw open the door. There was amoment's pause; Philip expected some one to come in with a tray andglasses, as they did at his great-uncle's when gentlemen were suddenlythirsty at times that were not meal-times.

  But instead, after a moment's pause, a dozen greyhounds stepped daintilyin on their padded cat-like feet; and round the neck of each dog wasslung a roundish thing that looked like one of the little barrels whichSt. Bernard dogs wear round their necks in the pictures. And when thesewere loosened and laid on the table Philip was charmed to see that theroundish things were not barrels but cocoa-nuts.

  The soldiers reached down some pewter pots from a high shelf--piercedthe cocoa-nuts with their bayonets and poured out the cocoa-nut milk.They all had drinks, so the prophecy came true, and what is more theygave Philip a drink as well. It was delicious, and there was as much ofit as he wanted. I have never had as much cocoa-nut milk as I wanted.Have you?

  Then the hollow cocoa-nuts were tied on to the dogs' necks again and outthey went, slim and beautiful, two by two, wagging their slender tails,in the most amiable and orderly way.

  'They take the cocoa-nuts to the town kitchen,' said the captain, 'to bemade into cocoa-nut ice for the army breakfast; waste not want not, youknow. We don't waste anything here, my boy.' Philip had quite got overhis snubbing. He now felt that the captain was talking with him as manto man. Helen had gone away and left him; well, he was learning to dowithout Helen. And he had got away from the Grange, and Lucy, and thatnurse. He was a man among men. And then, just as he was feeling mostmanly and important, and quite equal to facing any number of judges,there came a little tap at the door of the guard-room, and a very littlevoice said:

  'Oh, do please let me come in.'

  Then the door opened slowly.

  'Well, come in, whoever you are,' said the captain. And the person whocame in was--Lucy. Lucy, whom Philip thought he had got rid of--Lucy,who stood for the new hateful life to which Helen had left him. Lucy, inher serge skirt and jersey, with her little sleek fair pig-tails, andthat anxious 'I-wish-we-could-be-friends' smile of hers. Philip wasfurious. It was too bad.

  'And who is this?' the captain was saying kindly.

  'It's me--it's Lucy,' she said. 'I came up with _him_.'

  She pointed to Philip. 'No manners,' thought Philip in bitterness.

  'No, you didn't,' he said shortly.

  'I did--I was close behind you when you were climbing the ladder bridge.And I've been waiting alone ever since, when you were asleep and all. I_knew_ he'd be cross when he knew I'd come,' she explained to thesoldiers.

  'I'm _not_ cross,' said Philip very crossly indeed, but the captainsigned to him to be silent. Then Lucy was questioned and her answerswritten in the book, and when that was done the captain said:

  'So this little girl is a friend of yours?'

  'No, she isn't,' said Philip violently; 'she's not my friend, and shenever will be. I've seen her, that's all, and I don't want to see heragain.'

  'You _are_ unkind,' said Lucy.

  And then there was a grave silence, most unpleasant to Philip. Thesoldiers, he perceived, now looked coldly at him. It was all Lucy'sfault. What did she want to come shoving in for, spoiling everything?Any one but a girl would have known that a guard-room wasn't the rightplace for a girl. He frowned and said nothing. Lucy had smuggled upagainst the captain's knee, and he was stroking her hair.

  'Poor little woman,' he said. 'You must go to sleep now, so as to berested before you go to the Hall of Justice in the morning.'

  They made Lucy a bed of soldiers' cloaks laid on a bench; and bearskinsare the best of pillows. Philip had a soldier's cloak and a bench, and abearskin too--but what was the good? Everything was spoiled. If Lucy hadnot come the guard-room as a sleeping-place would have been almost asgood as the tented field. But she _had_ come, and the guard-room was nobetter now than any old night-nursery. And how had she known? How hadshe come? How had she made her way to that illimitable prairie where hehad found the mysterious beginning of the ladder bridge? He went tosleep a bunched-up lump of prickly discontent and suppressed fury.

  When he woke it was bright daylight, and a soldier was saying, 'Wake up,Trespassers. Breakfast----'

  'How jolly,' thought Philip, 'to be having military breakfast.' Then heremembered Lucy, and hated her being there, and felt once more that shehad spoiled everything.

  I should not, myself, care for a breakfast of cocoa-nut ice, peppermintcreams, apples, bread and butter and sweet milk. But the soldiers seemedto enjoy it. And it would have exactly suited Philip if he had not seenthat Lucy was enjoying it too.

  'I do hate greedy girls,' he told himself, for he was now in that stateof black rage when you hate everything the person you are angry withdoes or says or is.

  And now it was time to start for the Hall of Justice. The guard formedoutside, and Philip noticed that each soldier stood on a sort of greenmat. When the order to march was given, each soldier quickly andexpertly rolled up his green mat and put it under his arm. And wheneverthey stopped, because of the crowd, each soldier unrolled his green mat,and stood on it till it was time to go on again. And they had to stopseveral times, for the crowd was very thick in the great squares and inthe narrow streets of the city. It was a wonderful crowd. There were menand women and children in every sort of dress. Italian, Spanish,Russian; French peasants in blue blouses and wooden shoes, workmen inthe dress English working people wore a hundred years ago. Norwegians,Swedes, Swiss, Turks, Greeks, Indians, Arabians, Chinese, Japanese,besides Red Indians in dresses of skins, and Scots in kilts andsporrans. Philip did not know what nation most of the dresses belongedto--to him it was a brilliant patchwork of gold and gay colours. Itreminded him of the fancy-dress party he had once been to with Helen,when he wore a Pierrot's dress and felt very silly in it. He noticedthat not a single boy in all that crowd was dressed as he was--in whathe thought was the only correct dress for boys. Lucy walked beside him.Once, just after they started, she said, 'Aren't you frightened,Philip?' and he would not answer, though he longed to say, 'Of coursenot. It's only girls who are afraid.' But he thought it would be moredisagreeable to say nothing, so he said it.

  When they got to the Hall of Justice, she caught hold of his hand, andsaid:

  'Oh!' very loud and sudden, 'doesn't it remind you of anything?' sheasked.

  Philip pulled his hand away and said 'No' before he remembered that hehad decided not to speak to her. And the 'No' was quite untrue, for thebuilding did remind him of some
thing, though he couldn't have told youwhat.

  The prisoners and their guard passed through a great arch betweenmagnificent silver pillars, and along a vast corridor, lined withsoldiers who all saluted.

  'Do all sorts of soldiers salute you?' he asked the captain, 'or onlyjust your own ones?'

  'It's _you_ they're saluting,' the captain said; 'our laws tell us tosalute all prisoners out of respect for their misfortunes.'

  The judge sat on a high bronze throne with colossal bronze dragons oneach side of it, and wide shallow steps of ivory, black and white.

  Two attendants spread a round mat on the top of the steps in front ofthe judge--a yellow mat it was, and very thick, and he stood up andsaluted the prisoners. ('Because of your misfortunes,' the captainwhispered.)

  The judge wore a bright yellow robe with a green girdle, and he had nowig, but a very odd-shaped hat, which he kept on all the time.

  The trial did not last long, and the captain said very little, and thejudge still less, while the prisoners were not allowed to speak at all.The judge looked up something in a book, and consulted in a low voicewith the crown lawyer and a sour-faced person in black. Then he put onhis spectacles and said:

  'Prisoners at the bar, you are found guilty of trespass. The punishmentis Death--if the judge does not like the prisoners. If he does notdislike them it is imprisonment for life, or until the judge has hadtime to think it over. Remove the prisoners.'

  'Oh, _don't_!' cried Philip, almost weeping.

  'I thought you weren't afraid,' whispered Lucy.

  'Silence in court,' said the judge.

  Then Philip and Lucy were removed.

  They were marched by streets quite different from those they had comeby, and at last in the corner of a square they came to a large housethat was quite black.

  'Here we are,' said the captain kindly. 'Good-bye. Better luck nexttime.'

  The gaoler, a gentleman in black velvet, with a ruff and a pointedbeard, came out and welcomed them cordially.

  'How do you do, my dears?' he said. 'I hope you'll be comfortable here.First-class misdemeanants, I suppose?' he asked.

  'Of course,' said the captain.

  'Top floor, if you please,' said the gaoler politely, and stood back tolet the children pass. 'Turn to the left and up the stairs.'

  'Top floor, if you please,' said the gaoler politely.]

  The stairs were dark and went on and on, and round and round, and up andup. At the very top was a big room, simply furnished with a table,chairs, and a rocking-horse. Who wants more furniture than that?

  'You've got the best view in the whole city,' said the gaoler, 'andyou'll be company for me. What? They gave me the post of gaoler becauseit's nice, light, gentlemanly work, and leaves me time for my writing.I'm a literary man, you know. But I've sometimes found it a triflelonely. You're the first prisoners I've ever had, you see. If you'llexcuse me I'll go and order some dinner for you. You'll be contentedwith the feast of reason and the flow of soul, I feel certain.'

  The moment the door had closed on the gaoler's black back Philip turnedon Lucy.

  'I hope you're satisfied,' he said bitterly. 'This is all _your_ doing.They'd have let me off if you hadn't been here. What on earth did youwant to come here for? Why did you come running after me like that?You know I don't like you?'

  'You're the hatefullest, disagreeablest, horridest boy in all theworld,' said Lucy firmly--'there!'

  Philip had not expected this. He met it as well as he could.

  'I'm not a little sneak of a white mouse squeezing in where I'm notwanted, anyhow,' he said.

  And then they stood looking at each other, breathing quickly, both ofthem.

  'I'd rather be a white mouse than a cruel bully,' said Lucy at last.

  'I'm not a bully,' said Philip.

  Then there was another silence. Lucy sniffed. Philip looked round thebare room, and suddenly it came to him that he and Lucy were companionsin misfortune, no matter whose fault it was that they were imprisoned.So he said:

  'Look here, I don't like you and I shan't pretend I do. But I'll call itPax for the present if you like. We've got to escape from this placesomehow, and I'll help you if you like, and you may help me if you can.'

  'Thank you,' said Lucy, in a tone which might have meant anything.

  'So we'll call it Pax and see if we can escape by the window. Theremight be ivy--or a faithful page with a rope ladder. Have you a page atthe Grange?'

  'There's two stable-boys,' said Lucy, 'but I don't think they'refaithful, and I say, I think all this is much more magic than youthink.'

  'Of course I know it's magic,' said he impatiently; 'but it's quite realtoo.'

  'Oh, it's real enough,' said she.

  They leaned out of the window. Alas, there was no ivy. Their window wasvery high up, and the wall outside, when they touched it with theirhand, felt smooth as glass.

  '_That's_ no go,' said he, and the two leaned still farther out of thewindow looking down on the town. There were strong towers and fineminarets and palaces, the palm trees and fountains and gardens. A whitebuilding across the square looked strangely familiar. Could it be likeSt. Paul's which Philip had been taken to see when he was very little,and which he had never been able to remember? No, he could not rememberit even now. The two prisoners looked out in a long silence. Far belowlay the city, its trees softly waving in the breeze, flowers shining ina bright many-coloured patchwork, the canals that intersected the bigsquares gleamed in the sunlight, and crossing and recrossing thesquares and streets were the people of the town, coming and going abouttheir business.

  'Look here!' said Lucy suddenly, 'do you mean to say you don't know?'

  'Know what?' he asked impatiently.

  'Where we are. What it is. Don't you?'

  'No. No more do you.'

  'Haven't you seen it all before?'

  'No, of course I haven't. No more have you.'

  'All right. I _have_ seen it before though,' said Lucy, 'and so haveyou. But I shan't tell you what it is unless you'll be nice to me.' Hertone was a little sad, but quite firm.

  'I _am_ nice to you. I told you it was Pax,' said Philip. 'Tell me whatyou think it is.'

  'I don't mean that sort of grandish standoffish Pax, but real Pax. Oh,don't be so horrid, Philip. I'm dying to tell you--but I won't if you goon being like you are.'

  '_I'm_ all right,' said Philip; 'out with it.'

  'No. You've got to say it's Pax, and I will stand by you till we get outof this, and I'll always act like a noble friend to you, and I'll try mybest to like you. Of course if you can't like me you can't, but youought to try. Say it after me, won't you?'

  Her tone was so kind and persuading that he found himself saying afterher, 'I, Philip, agree to try and like you, Lucy, and to stand by youtill we're out of this, and always to act the part of a noble friend toyou. And it's real Pax. Shake hands.'

  'Now then,' said he when they had shaken hands, and Lucy uttered thesewords:

  'Don't you see? It's your own city that we're in, your own city that youbuilt on the tables in the drawing-room? It's all got big by magic, sothat we could get in. Look,' she pointed out of the window, 'see thatgreat golden dome, that's one of the brass finger-bowls, and that whitebuilding's my old model of St. Paul's. And there's Buckingham Palaceover there, with the carved squirrel on the top, and the chessmen, andthe blue and white china pepper-pots; and the building we're in is theblack Japanese cabinet.'

  Philip looked and he saw that what she said was true. It _was_ his city.

  'But I didn't build insides to my buildings,' said he; 'and when did_you_ see what I built anyway?'

  'The insides are part of the magic, I suppose,' Lucy said; 'and I sawthe cities you built when Auntie brought me home last night, after you'dbeen sent to bed. And I did love them. And oh, Philip, I'm so glad it'sPax because I do think you're so _frightfully_ clever, and Auntiethought so too, building those beautiful things. And I knew nurse wasgoing to pull it all down. I begged her no
t to, but she was addymant,and so I got up and dressed and came down to have another look bymoonlight. And one or two of the bricks and chessmen had fallen down. Iexpect nurse knocked them down. So I built them up again as well as Icould--and I was loving it all like anything; and then the door openedand I hid under the table, and you came in.'

  'Then you were there--did you notice how the magic began?'

  'No, but it all changed to grass; and then I saw you a long way off,going up a ladder. And so I went after you. But I didn't let you see me.I knew you'd be so cross. And then I looked in at the guard-room door,and I did so want some of the cocoa-nut milk.'

  'When did you find out it was _my_ city?'

  'I thought the soldiers looked like my lead ones somehow. But I wasn'tsure till I saw the judge. Why he's just old Noah, out of the Ark.'

  'So he is,' cried Philip; 'how wonderful! How perfectly wonderful! Iwish we weren't prisoners. Wouldn't it be jolly to go all over it--intoall the buildings, to see what the insides of them have turned into?And all the other people. I didn't put _them_ in.'

  'That's more magic, I expect. But--Oh, we shall find it all out intime.'

  She clapped her hands. And on the instant the door opened and the gaolerappeared.

  'A visitor for you,' he said, and stood aside to let some one else comein, some one tall and thin, with a black hooded cloak and a blackhalf-mask, such as people wear at carnival time.

  When the gaoler had shut the door and gone away the tall figure took offits mask and let fall its cloak, showing to the surprised butrecognising eyes of the children the well-known shape of Mr. Noah--thejudge.

  'How do you do?' he said. 'This is a little unofficial visit. I hope Ihaven't come at an inconvenient time.'

  'We're very glad,' said Lucy, 'because you can tell us----'

  'I won't answer questions,' said Mr. Noah, sitting down stiffly on hisyellow mat, 'but I will tell you something. We don't know who you are.But I myself think that you may be the Deliverer.'

  'Both of us,' said Philip jealously.

  'One or both. You see the prophecy says that the Destroyer's hair isred. And your hair is not red. But before I could get the populace tofeel sure of, that my own hair would be grey with thought and argument.Some people are so wooden-headed. And I am not used to thinking. I don'toften have to do it. It distresses me.'

  The children said they were sorry. Philip added:

  'Do tell us a little about your city. It isn't a question. We want toknow if it's magic. That isn't a question either.'

  'I was about to tell you,' said Mr. Noah, 'and I will not answerquestions. Of course it is magic. Everything in the world is magic,until you understand it.

  'And as to the city. I will just tell you a little of our history. Manythousand years ago all the cities of our country were built by a greatand powerful giant, who brought the materials from far and wide. Theplace was peopled partly by persons of his choice, and partly by a sortof self-acting magic rather difficult to explain. As soon as the citieswere built and the inhabitants placed here the life of the city began,and it was, to those who lived it, as though it had always been. Theartisans toiled, the musicians played, and the poets sang. Theastrologers, finding themselves in a tall tower evidently designed forsuch a purpose, began to observe the stars and to prophesy.'

  'I know that part,' said Philip.

  'Very well,' said the judge. 'Then you know quite enough. Now I want toask a little favour of you both. Would you mind escaping?'

  'If we only could,' Lucy sighed.

  'The strain on my nerves is too much,' said Mr. Noah feelingly. 'Escape,my dear children, to please me, a very old man in indifferent health andpoor spirits.'

  'But how----'

  'Oh, you just walk out. You, my boy, can disguise yourself in yourdressing-gown which I see has been placed on yonder chair, and I willleave my cloak for you, little girl.'

  They both said 'Thank you,' and Lucy added: 'But _how_?'

  'Through the door,' said the judge. 'There is a rule about puttingprisoners on their honour not to escape, but there have not been anyprisoners for so long that I don't suppose they put you on honour. No?You can just walk out of the door. There are many charitable persons inthe city who will help to conceal you. The front-door key turns easily,and I myself will oil it as I go out. Good-bye--thank you so much forfalling in with my little idea. Accept an old man's blessing. Onlydon't tell the gaoler. He would never forgive me.'

  He got off his mat, rolled it up and went.

  'Well!' said Lucy.

  'Well!' said Philip.

  'I suppose we go?' he said. But Lucy said, 'What about the gaoler? Won'the catch it if we bolt?'

  Philip felt this might be true. It was annoying, and as bad as being puton one's honour.

  'Bother!' was what he said.

  And then the gaoler came in. He looked pale and worried.

  'I am so awfully sorry,' he began. 'I thought I should enjoy having youhere, but my nerves are all anyhow. The very sound of your voices. Ican't write a line. My brain reels. I wonder whether you'd be goodenough to do a little thing for me? Would you mind escaping?'

  'But won't you get into trouble?'

  'Nothing could be worse than this,' said the gaoler, with feeling. 'Ihad no idea that children's voices were so penetrating. Go, go. Iimplore you to escape. Only don't tell the judge. I am sure he wouldnever forgive me.'

  After that, what prisoner would not immediately have escaped?

  The two children only waited till the sound of the gaoler's keys haddied away on the stairs, to open their door, run down the many steps andslip out of the prison gate. They walked a little way in silence. Therewere plenty of people about, but no one seemed to notice them.

  'Which way shall we go?' Lucy asked. 'I wish we'd asked him where theCharitables live.'

  'I think,' Philip began; but Lucy was not destined to know what hethought.

  There was a sudden shout, a clattering of horses' hoofs, and all thefaces in the square turned their way.

  'They've seen us,' cried Philip. 'Run, run, run!'

  He himself ran, and he ran toward the gate-house that stood at the topof the ladder stairs by which they had come up, and behind him came theshouting and clatter of hot pursuit. The captain stood in the gatewayalone, and just as Philip reached the gate the captain turned into theguard-room and pretended not to see anything. Philip had never run sofar or so fast. His breath came in deep sobs; but he reached the ladderand began quickly to go down. It was easier than going up.

  And behind him the clatter of hot pursuit.]

  He was nearly at the bottom when the whole ladder bridge leapt wildlyinto the air, and he fell from it and rolled in the thick grass of thatillimitable prairie.

  All about him the air was filled with great sounds, like the noise ofthe earthquakes that destroy beautiful big palaces, and factories whichare big but not beautiful. It was deafening, it was endless, it wasunbearable.

  Yet he had to bear that, and more. And now he felt a curious swellingsensation in his hands, then in his head--then all over. It wasextremely painful. He rolled over in his agony, and saw the foot of anenormous giant quite close to him. The foot had a large, flat, uglyshoe, and seemed to come out of grey, low-hanging, swaying curtains.There was a gigantic column too, black against the grey. The ladderbridge, cast down, lay on the ground not far from him.

  Pain and fear overcame Philip, and he ceased to hear or feel or knowanything.

  When he recovered consciousness he found himself under the table in thedrawing-room. The swelling feeling was over, and he did not seem to bemore than his proper size.

  He could see the flat feet of the nurse and the lower part of her greyskirt, and a rattling and rumbling on the table above told him that shewas doing as she had said she would, and destroying his city. He sawalso a black column which was the leg of the table. Every now and thenthe nurse walked away to put back into its proper place something he hadused in the building. And once she stood on a chair,
and he heard thetinkling of the lustre-drops as she hooked them into their places on thechandelier.

  'If I lie very still,' said he, 'perhaps she won't see me. But I dowonder how I got here. And what a dream to tell Helen about!'

  He lay very still. The nurse did not see him. And when she had gone toher breakfast Philip crawled out.

  Yes, the city was gone. Not a trace of it. The very tables were back intheir proper places.

  Philip went back to his proper place, which, of course, was bed.

  'What a splendid dream,' he said, as he cuddled down between the sheets,'and now it's all over!'

  Of course he was quite wrong.