The Happy Adventurers

it B

nie, "woes cluster, as

last woe, and that now the l

ired that she felt nothing short of a hammer and two tacks could fasten that smile on to her face any longer. So she closed her ey

o looked pale and chilly even on this fine warm day in June, while Aunt

her granddaughter, "a little quiet sleep and then a nice tea, with the first strawberries from

the thought of strawberries and cream could not make her feel rea

perhaps forget things for a little while-" and, in spite of all her efforts, a few tears insisted upon rollin

Sunday night. There were five children: Mollie and her twin brother Dick; Jean, Billy, and Bob. They lived in a large, ugly house, one of a long row of ugly houses in a dull gardenless street, where the sidewalks were paved, and the plane tree

ays had been too short for all she wanted to get into them, and, if she had been allowed, she would certainly have followed the poet's advice

as measles went, but her eyes remained obstinately weak, and so it was decided that she should be sent down to the country to stay with Grannie, do no lessons at all, and spend as much time as possible

and the trial of not being allowed to read; but the very word "measles" frightened away the neighbours, so that no one came to keep her company, and she sometimes felt very lonely. Nevertheless, she had accommodated herself to

t; "what can I do to pass the time? It's all very well for Baden-Powell to talk, but I can't sing and laugh al

ent something. You can't read and you can't sew-how about knitting? Suppose we knit a scarf in school colours for Dick, or a jumper for

well. But after lunch the day darkened and rain began to fall in heavy slate-coloured streaks, pouring down the window-panes and streaming across the greenhouse roof, changing the bright daylight into a dismal twilight, and blotting out all view of t

of photograph-albums, the kind of albums to be found in country houses, filled with carte-de-visite photographs of old-fashioned people, all standing, apparently, in the same studio, and each resting one hand on the same marble pillar. The ladies wore s

congratulated herself that she took after her mother in appearance; though, of course, Father, as she knew him, was not in the least like that infant. At the

uck you up and lower the blinds, and you'

nd Mother, Dick and Jean, and school. The big clock on the mantelpiece seemed to go very, very slowly, its tick loud and deliberate, as though it would say: "Don't think you are going to get off one single minu

d to herself, "what can I

urned the pages over. These were all children, prim children with tidy hair and solemn faces. Mollie stopped at the picture of a girl dressed in a wide-skirted, sprigged-muslin frock. Her hair fell

at sort of time she had-horribly dull, probably. No hockey, no Guiding, no fox-trots-I expect she danced the polka, and recited 'Lives of great men all remind us', and got pi-jawed ten time

so that her niece might be soothed to sleep. Mollie did not recognize the tunes but she liked them;

unes; she looks as if she practi

s and her eyes steadily fixed on the face of that other chil

, and then with her prim little mouth. Mollie was so startled that she let the album slip from her lap, and it fell down between the sofa and the wall. She turned round, and, after groping in the narrow space for a minute, she

led at her again, and she noticed that, although the child's dress was

exclaimed Molli

nswered, speaking in a peculiarly so

e, rather surprised to find that she did not fee

e one, but everybody isn't one. I can't explain, so you'd better not was

t. "Travel where? Of course I'd love to come, but how ca

Time. You haven't got to think about what is happening here and now-that will be all right

Mollie replied;

and honour never to say one single word about her adventures to any grown-up, either here or there. You must not ask them questions that w

one moment to think. Where shall I

ar of our Time might be a minute of yours, or a minute of ours might be a yea

t it? Yes, Dick once had one.

hen began again. "You will step into a dissolving view of our T

doubtfully. "I never heard of s

he room as though in search of inspiration, and her eyes fell upon a volume of Shakespear

n a slightly superior voice;

what Hamlet says: 'T

tio, than are dreamt o

ered, in a less superior tone, "I don't t

short again, and then went on. "It's nearly time for me to go-and I can never

cried. "I do want to come; it wo

the least in the world. But remember

of honour as a Guide. I c

n. Listen to the music,

ou to op

a high swing and were just swooping down to the lowest point. All the time

said a s

*

unt Mary's tunes and the rain splashing on the window-pa

*

s the walk like black bars. Between the trees ran narrow flower-beds, and beyond these stretched a wide, open space, so solidly spread with yellow dandelions that it looked as though the golden floor of heaven had come to rest upon earth. The path, with its sentinel trees, led st

she was sure-there was a different feel in the air, colours were brighter, scents were str

and belted round the waist. She wore no hat, and her hair fell over her shoulders in plump brown curls. By her side paced a large dog, a rough

, "don't you know a friend whe

stralia; that was the child in the photograph, whose name, she k