Living Alone

  CHAPTER IX

  THE HOUSE OF LIVING ALONE MOVES AWAY

  When Sarah Brown and Richard, followed by the Dog David, reached theMitten Island Ferry, after travelling slowly by moonlight, they weresurprised to see a great crowd of people banked up on the Island, andone man in the uniform of a policeman, standing alone on the mainland.About ten yards from land the ferryman sat in his boat, rowing gently tokeep himself stationary in the current.

  "You'll 'ave to come to shore now," said the policeman, in the tone ofone exhausted by long argument. "'Ere's some more parties wanting tocross." He turned to Richard. "Look 'ere, mate," he said. "I'm 'ere inthe discharge of my dooty, and this ferryman is obstructin' me."

  "Deah, deah," said Richard.

  The ferryman said: "If the King of England--why, if the two ghosts ofQueen Victoria and Albert the Good--was waiting to cross now, Iwouldn't come in for them, not if it was going to give you a chance toset foot on Mitten Island."

  The crowd across the river, divining that a climax of defiance was beingreached, shouted: "Yah, yah," in unison.

  "Is either of you parties an 'ouse'older on Mitten Island?" asked thepoliceman of Sarah Brown and Richard.

  "I am," said Richard, to his companion's surprise.

  "Can you give me any information regarding the whereabouts of acherecter known under any of these names: Iris 'Yde, T.B. Watkins,Hangela the Witch, possibly a male in female disguise, believed toconduct a general shop and boardin' 'ouse on Mitten Island?"

  "There is only one shop on Mitten Island," said Richard. "And oneboarding house. All in one. I own it. I can recite you the prospectus ifyou like. I have a superintendent there. I have known her all my life. Idid not know she was believed to be a male in female disguise. I did notknow she had any name at all, let alone half-a-dozen."

  The policeman seemed to be troubled all the time by mosquitoes. Heslapped his face and his ears and the back of his neck. He succeeded inkilling one insect upon the bridge of his nose, and left it there bymistake, a strangely ignoble corpse. Sarah Brown suspected Richard ofsome responsibility for this untimely persecution.

  "That party is charged with an offence against the Defence of the RealmAct," said the policeman,--"with being, although a civilian, inpossession of a flying machine, and--er--obstructin' 'Is Majesty'senemies in the performance of their dooty."

  "Oh deah, deah," said Richard. "Deah, deah, deah...."

  "Do either of you know the present whereabouts of the party?" persistedthe policeman. Attacked on every side by insects, he was becoming ratherpathetic in his discomfort and indignity. His small eyes, set in redfat, stared with uncomprehending protest; his fat busy hands were notagile enough to defend him. He felt unsuccessful and foolish, and verynear the ground. He wished quite disproportionately to be at home withhis admiring wife in Acton.

  Sarah Brown shook her head in reply, and Richard could say nothing but"Oh deah, deah...."

  "May I take your name and 'ome address, and regimental number, please,young man," said the policeman, after a baffled pause.

  "Now my address," said Richard, with genuine shame, "is a thing Ihonestly can never remember. I know I've heard it; I've tried and triedto learn it at my mother's knee. It begins with an H, I think. That'sthe worst of not being able to read or write. I can describe the placeto you exactly, a house with a lot of windows, that sees a long way. Ifyou turn your back on the Marble Arch, and go on till you get to a bigposter saying Eat Less Meat, and then turn to your right--(pointing tothe left)--or again, if you go by air as the crow flies--or rather asthe witch flies----"

  "You shall 'ear of this foolery, my fine feller," said the distressedpoliceman, almost with a break in his voice. "Seein' as 'ow you refuseinformation, an' this ferryman thinks fit to defy the law, I 'ave nocourse open but to whistle for my mate, and leave 'im 'ere while Itelephone for a police-boat."

  He raised his whistle to his lips, but before he could blow it, theclimax of this the least successful evening of his life, overwhelmedhim. A shadow swept over the party, a large flying substance caught himfull on the back of the neck and knocked him off the landing-stage intothe river.

  The witch on Harold her Broomstick landed on the spot vacated by thepoliceman.

  "Oh, look what I've done, look what I've done ..." she exclaimed in anecstasy of vexation. There was no need to tell anybody to look. Fivehundred odd people were already doing so with enthusiasm. "Oh, what adreadfully bad landing! Oh, Harold, how could you be so careless?"

  She took the cringing Harold by the mane and slapped him violently onceor twice. Richard stretched out his riding-crop to the splashingpoliceman, murmuring: "Oh deah, deah...."

  "Don't be frightened," said the witch to the policeman. "We'll soon getyou out, and the water's so shallow you can't sink. Talking of sinking,Richard, there's a question that puzzles me rather. If a rat got on to asubmarine, how would it behave? A submarine, you see, is a sinking ship,and rats pride themselves so on knowing when to----"

  Sarah Brown seized the witch by the shoulder. "Go away, witch," shesaid.

  "How d'you mean--go away?" asked the witch. "I've only just this minutecome."

  "Go away, go away," was all that Sarah Brown could manage to repeat.

  "Oh, very well," said the witch in her offended grown-up voice. "I cantake a hint, I suppose, as well as anybody. I'm going."

  She seated herself with an irritable flouncing movement on Harold'ssaddle, and flew away.

  The policeman climbed out of the water, looking like an enraged seal.Peals of laughter from the other side of the moonlit river robbed him ofadequate words.

  "Not ser fast, my fine feller," he roared, seeing Richard kissing theHorse Vivian on the nose, preparatory to riding away. "Don't you thinkfor a minute I don't know 'oo's at the bottom of this."

  "You don't know how tired I am of loud noises," said Richard, liftingone foot with dignity to the stirrup. "You don't know how bitterly Ilong to be still and hear things very far off ... but always there is anangry voice or the angry noise of guns in the way...."

  He twined one finger negligently into the mane on the Horse Vivian'sneck, and pulled himself slowly into the saddle. The policeman stoodmysteriously impotent. Water dripped loudly from his clothes andpunctuated Richard's quiet speech.

  "Dear policeman," continued Richard. "I believe you have talked so muchto-night that you haven't heard what a quiet night it is. You aresmaller than a star, and yet you make more noise than all the starstogether. You are not so cold as the moon, and yet your teeth chattermore loudly than hers. The heat of your wrath is less than the heat ofthe sun, and yet, while he is silent and departed, you fill the air withclamour, and--if I may say so--seem to be outstaying your welcome. Oh,dear policeman, listen.... Do you know, if there were no London on thisside and no War on that, the silence would be deep enough to fill allthe seas of all the worlds...."

  He shook the reins, and the Horse Vivian moved, treading quietly on thestrip of grass that borders the path to the ferry.

  "I am going to talk to my True Love now," said Richard, his voice fadingaway as he rode. "My True Love's voice is the only voice that is alittle more beautiful to me than silence...."

  For a moment he looked every inch a wizard. Every button on his uniformand every buckle on the Horse Vivian's harness caught the moonlight, andchanged into faery spangles as he turned and waved his hand beforedisappearing.

  The policeman seemed quieted, as he looked at Sarah Brown sitting, whiteand haggard with pain, on the river bank, with her arm round theshivering David.

  "In a minute, in a minute, my One," she was saying to David. "We arenearly home now. We shall soon be quiet now."

  There was always something startlingly inoffensive about Sarah Brown'sappearance.

  "I'd like to know 'oo was responsible for this houtrage, all the same,"said the policeman.

  Sarah Brown did not hear him, but she said: "Oh, I am so very sorry ithappened. It was a pure accident, of course, but it is so terrible t
osee any one have an accident to his dignity. You must forget it quickly,you must run and find someone who knows you at your best, you must tellher a fine revised version of the incident, and then you will feelbetter."

  The ferryman shouted: "I don't mind coming in now to fetch this youngwoman. You can come too now if you like, Mr. Pompous-in-the-Pond, forthe party you're looking for is not at home, and I've no doubt but whatthat crowd over there will give you a gay welcome."

  "I'll look into the metter to-morrer," said the policeman. "You 'aven't'eard the last of this, none of you 'aven't, not by a long chalk. I've agood mind to get the Mayor to read the Riot Act at you."

  As Sarah Brown landed on Mitten Island she could not distinguish thefaces of the waiting crowd, but she heard sharp anxious voices.

  "They ain't goin' to get 'er, not if I knows it."

  "She never speaks but kindness, the dear lamb."

  "She's more of a saint than any in the Calendar."

  "She gave my Danny a room in 'er house, and put 'eart into 'im after 'elost 'is sight in the War."

  "She's the good fairy of the Island."

  "She grew all them Sweet Williams in my garden in one night, when Ifirst come 'ere and was 'omesick for Devon."

  "The law's always after saints and fairies, always 'as bin."

  "But the law can't catch 'er."

  "The law has driven her away," said Sarah Brown. "There is no magic nowon Mitten Island."

  She staggered through the open door of the Shop. "This is Richard'shouse," she said to herself as she entered, and felt doubly alonebecause Richard was far away, riding to his True Love. She struck herlast match, lit the lantern, and looked round. There was no sound in thehouse of Living Alone, she thought there would never again be any magicsound there to penetrate to her imprisoned hearing. The aprons hangingfrom the ceiling near the door flapped in the cold wind, and she thoughtthey were like grey bats in a cave. The breeze blew out the openlantern. Ah, how desolate, how desolate....

  A piece of paper was impaled upon the counter by means of a headlesshatpin. There was something very largely and badly written on it. SarahBrown read: "Well Soup it looks like my Night's come and what dyou thinkSherry's come too. Im an me as gone off to a place e knows that's a fineplace for such a boy as Elbert to be born in so no more at present fromyour true Peony."

  Sarah Brown climbed up the short stairway, painful step by painful step,to her cell. She sat on her bed holding her throbbing side, andbreathing with fearful caution. She looked at the empty grate. She put acigarette in her mouth, the unconscious and futile answer of the DwellerAlone to that blind hunger for comfort. But she had no matches, andpresently, dimly conscious that her groping for comfort had lackedresult, she absently put another cigarette into her mouth, and then felta fool.

  She stared at the cold window. The sky seemed to be nailed carelessly toit by means of a crooked star or two.

  These are the terrible nights of Living Alone, when you have fever andsometimes think that your beloved stands in the doorway to bring youcomfort, and sometimes think that you have no beloved, and that there isno one left in all the world, no word, no warmth, nor ever a kindlycandle to be lighted in that spotted darkness that walls up your hotsight. Again on those nights you dream that you have already done thosegenial things your body cries for, or perhaps That Other has done them.The fire is built and alight at last, a cup of something cool andbeautifully sour stands ready to your hand, you can hear the deliciousrattle of china on a tray in the passage--someone coming with food youwould love to look at, and presently perhaps to eat ... when you feelbetter. But again and again your eyes open on the cold dumb darkness,and there is nothing but the wind and strange sinister emptinesscreaking on the stair.

  These are the terrible nights of Living Alone, yet no real lover of thathouse and of that state would ever exchange one of those haunted anddesert nights for a night spent watched, in soft warm places.

  Sarah Brown was not long left alone that night to look at the strip ofmoonlight on the cold ashes of her fireplace. The Shop below shooksuddenly with many footfalls, and the metallic officious barking of theDog David rent the still air of her cell.

  A man's voice at the foot of the stairs said: "I can hear a dogbarking." And a woman's voice followed it: "Angela, dear, is that you?"

  Sarah Brown was only aware of a vague and irksome disturbance. Shegroped to her door, opened it, and shouted miserably: "Go away,policeman, go away. She is not here."

  Lady Arabel came up, flashing an electric torch.

  "My dear, you look dretfully ill. Why look, you are trembling. Why look,your little dog is making your counterpane muddy. Don't be afraid forAngela, we are all here to try and help her."

  "All here?"

  "Yes, Meta and the Mayor and Mr. Tovey and Mr. Frere. Let me help youinto bed, and then you shall tell me what you know of her. You have hada dretfully trying time."

  "I am well," said Sarah Brown ungraciously. "You are none of you goingto help the witch without me."

  "Ah, this is all very dretful," sighed Lady Arabel. "Most foolish of usto come here all together like this, after the policeman took our namesand addresses, and was dretfully impertinent and suspicious. But Metainsisted. I quite expect to spend the next twenty-four hours in gaol, orelse to be shot for Offence of the Realm. In fact, speaking as aratepayer, I think the police ought to have done it before. Still, Metathought we might perhaps be able to help Angela.... Meta has manyfriends who seem influential ... but _so_ talkative, my dear."

  She led the way downstairs. Mr. Tovey and the Mayor were talking at thefoot of the stairs, Mr. Frere was listening sardonically. As Sarah Brownwent past them into the Shop, she smelt the unflower-like scent thatalways denoted the presence of Miss Ford. Sarah Brown herself wasaccompanied by nothing more seductive than a faint smell of gasoline,showing that her clothes had lately been home-cleaned. In the darknessof the Shop she saw Miss Ford stooping, trying to shut the big difficultdrawer in which the witch kept her magic.

  "It is frightfully explosive," said Sarah Brown.

  Miss Ford started and straightened her back. "Ah, Miss Brown.... I wasjust looking about...."

  Sarah Brown sat gasping on the counter, and the rest of the partyre-entered the Shop, bringing the lantern.

  "How very absurd all this is," said Miss Ford nervously,--"taking such agreat deal of trouble about a necessitous case."

  "America is in my mind," said Lady Arabel. "If we could get her there.Anybody who has done anything silly goes to America. Indeed, if Iremember rightly, America is entirely populated with fugitives fromsomewhere else. So dretfully confusing for the Red Indians. They say thestory of the Tower of Babel was only a prophecy about the WoolworthBuilding--"

  "You couldn't get a passport," said Mr. Darnby Frere, who was the onlyperson present really conscious of sanity. "Only a miracle could producea passport in these days, especially for a fugitive from justice."

  "Only a miracle--or magic," said Sarah Brown.

  Miss Ford moved instinctively behind the counter towards the open drawerfull of ingredients for happiness.

  "We must remember," added Mr. Frere, "that, after all, she did break thelaw. In fact I cannot for the life of me imagine why on earth we areall--"

  "Oh, Darnby, do be sensible," said Miss Ford. "Of course we know it iswrong to break the law, but in this case--well, I myself should be thelast to blame her."

  "No, not the last," said Sarah Brown.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Certainly not the last. Probably not even the penultimate one. Youflatter yourself."

  "Why, surely some of you ladies, movin' in the 'ighest circles, knows ofgentlemen in the Foreign Office that would do a little shut-eye job, forold times' sake," suggested the Mayor.

  This was a challenge to Miss Ford. She ceased to gaze haughtily on SarahBrown. "Men from three departments of the Foreign Office are fairlyregular Wednesday friends of mine," she said. "But I could hardlytrouble any of them on--er--so trivial
a matter."

  There was silence, while Miss Ford toyed gingerly with one of the paperpackets out of the witch's drawer. Presently she said: "What aboutRichard?"

  Lady Arabel showed sudden irritation. "There you go again, Meta; I havespoken to you of it again and again. It's Rrchud this and Rrchud thatwhenever anything in the least tahsome or out of the way happens. Onewould think you considered the poor boy a wizard."

  "You needn't lose your temper, Arabel," said Miss Ford coldly. "I onlymeant that Richard might be useful, having so many friends, and suchskill in ... chemistry...." As if unconsciously she tore off one cornerof the packet of magic she held before adding: "And besides, as I haveoften told you, I believe Richard to have real Occult Power, which wouldgive him a special interest in this case."

  Sarah Brown, who was burying her face in her hands and missing much ofthe conversation, caught the name of Richard, and said: "Richard hasgone to his True Love."

  A tempest of restrained embarrassment arose.

  "She's feverish," murmured Miss Ford, turning scarlet.

  "My dear Sarah," said Lady Arabel tartly. "You are quite mistaken, and Imust beg of you to be careful how you repeat idle gossip about my son.Rrchud is at his office. You know it is only open at night--one ofRrchud's quaint fancies."

  "I will ring up his office," said Miss Ford, deciding to ignore SarahBrown both now and in future. "Where is the telephone?"

  "There is none," replied Sarah Brown. "This is the House of LivingAlone."

  Miss Ford was pouring a grain or two of the magic into her palm. "Howvery credulous people are," she said with a self-conscious smile. "IfThelma Bennett Watkins were here she would credit this powder with--"

  She stopped, for an astonishing sharp smell filled the Shop. Almostimmediately a curious wheezy sound, punctuated by taps, proceeded fromthe corner. It was Mr. Bernard Tovey trying to sing, "Mon coeur s'ouvr'a ta voix," and beating time by swinging his heels against the counteron which he sat.

  Sarah Brown felt suddenly well. She trembled but was well. She jumpedoff the counter. "I will run across, if you like," she said, "and ringup Richard from the ferryman's house. He may have left his True Lovenow. I am not deaf on the telephone, and the ferryman won't admitstrangers."

  As she left, the smell of magic was getting stronger and stronger. Mr.Tovey, still impersonating Delilah in the corner, was approaching themore excitable passages of the song. Miss Ford was saying, "Really,Bernard...." Sarah Brown felt a slight misgiving.

  A warm and rather dramatic-looking light was shining behind the redcurtain of the ferryman's lattice window, as Sarah Brown crossed themoonlit road. She delighted, after her recent black hours, to think ofall those people in the world who were sitting stuffily and pleasantlyin little ugly rooms that they loved, doing quiet careful things thatpleased them. And she told herself that the thought of Richard's littleoffice, alone and alight in the deserted City every night, would comforther often in the darkness.

  The ferryman opened his door, and invited her genially to his telephone.He had been sitting at his table, surrounded by the snakes that for himtook the place of a family. On the table was a bowl of milk from which alarge bull-snake, in a gay Turkey-carpet design, was drinking. A yellowand black python lay coiled in several figures of eight in the armchair,and an intelligent-looking small dust-coloured snake with a broad noseand an active tongue leaned out of the ferryman's breast pocket.

  "Aren't they beautiful?" he said, with shy and paternal pride, as SarahBrown tried to find a place on which the python would like to be tickledor scratched. Somehow the python has a barren figure, from a caresser'spoint of view. The ferryman went on: "There is something about the gripand spring in a snake's body that makes me feel giddy with pleasure.Snakes to me, you know, are just a drug, sold by the yard instead of inbottles. My brain is getting every day colder and quieter, and allthrough loving snakes so."

  Sarah Brown rang up Richard's office, and the over-refined voice of ayoung gentleman clerk answered her.

  Mr. Higgins was not in the office.

  Mr. Higgins had left particular word that if any one wanted him theywere to be told that he had--er--gone to his True Love.

  But any minor business matter connected with magic could be attended toin his absence. Mr. Higgins spending so much of his time on thebattlefield at present, a good deal of the routine work had to be donein any case by the speaker, his confidential clerk.

  Passports to America? Perfectly simple. The office had simply to issueblank sheets treated in a certain way, and every official to whom thesheet should be presented would read upon it what he would want. ButMr. Higgins would have to affix his mark and seal. Mr. Higgins would bein the office sometime to-night, probably within the hour.

  How many passports?

  "Two," said Sarah Brown. "One for my friend and one for me. A dogdoesn't need one, does he--a British dog? I will book the berthsto-morrow. I can pawn my--or rather, I can sell my War Loan."

  As she hung up the receiver, the ferryman asked: "Are you having a partyup at the Shop, in the superintendent's absence?"

  "Not intentionally," replied Sarah Brown. "Why?"

  "Well, I just wondered. There's a noise like a thousand mad gramophonesplaying backwards, coming from there."

  Sarah Brown's misgivings returned like a clap of thunder. She rushedback to the Shop.

  The lantern was standing in the middle of the floor, its glass wasshattered, and out of each of its eight panels streamed a great flamesix or seven feet high, like the petal of an enormous flower. Facingthese flames stood Miss Ford and Mr. Tovey, hand in hand, each singing adifferent song very earnestly. Lady Arabel had found somewhere a patentfire extinguisher, and was putting on her glasses in order to read thedirections. Mr. Frere was hesitating in the background with a leakingbiscuit tin full of water. The Mayor was gone.

  "Great Scott!" said Sarah Brown. You'll burn the place down. Look atthat row of petticoats up there, catching fire already. What have youdone with the Mayor?"

  "We made him invisible by mistake," whispered Mr. Tovey. "But sh--sh, hedoesn't know it yet."

  "Nothing matters," said Miss Ford. "We are all going to America." Andshe continued her song, which was an extempore one about the sea.

  "But that's no reason why you should burn the house down," said SarahBrown.

  "That's what I thought," agreed Mr. Frere. "But water won't put out thatflame."

  The singers fell silent. Only the voice of the invisible Mayor could beheard, singing, "If those lips could only speak," in a loud tremulousvoice, to the accompaniment of his own unseen stamping feet.

  "You've been putting magic into that flame," said Sarah Browndistractedly. "I told you it was dangerous. Nothing will put magic out,except more magic. What will the witch say?"

  "It doesn't matter what anybody says," said Miss Ford. "We are all goingto America. No place and no person matters when I am not there. Thereare no places and no people existing where I am not. I have suspected itbefore, and now I am sure that everything is all a pretence, except me.Look how easy it was to dismiss that gross grocer from sight. He wasjust a bit of background. I have painted him out."

  The drapery department on the ceiling was ablaze now, and flakes of ashypetticoat, and the metal frames of buttons, showered to the floor.

  "I will go and get help," said Sarah Brown, and hurried out of doors,followed feverishly by David, who was not a very brave dog in momentsof crisis, and yet liked to appear busy and helpful. It was to theferryman's telephone that they returned. Sarah Brown knew that the firewas a magic fire, and that an appeal to the L.C.C. Fire Brigade wouldonly bring defeat and unnecessary bewilderment upon a deservingorganisation.

  Sarah Brown rang up Richard's office, and Richard, who had a heroic andalmost cinematic gift for being on hand at the right moments, answeredher himself.

  "Come at once," said Sarah Brown. "The House of Living Alone is on fire.Someone has been tampering with the magic drawer."

  "Oh deah, deah," s
aid Richard. "And this is such a busy night at theoffice too. Do you think it is really important? It is my house, youknow."

  "Well, I don't see what is to prevent Mitten Island from being burnt tothe water's edge. In fact I don't see why, being a magic fire, it shouldstop at the water's edge. Not to mention that the Mayor----"

  "Very well, I'll come," said Richard.

  As she stepped out of the door he arrived.

  "I came by flash of lightning," he explained, smoothing his hair andreadjusting his Bill Sykes service cap, in the manner of one who hasmoved swiftly. "The lightning service is getting very bad. I was held upfor quite three-quarters of a second over Whitehall. There was somewireless war-news coming in, and the lightning had to let it pass. Now,what's all this fuss about, Sarah Brown?"

  There was a crowd of delirious Mitten Islanders round the House ofLiving Alone. While Sarah Brown and Richard were about fifty yards away,a many-forked and enormous white flame suddenly wrapped the house about,like a hand clutching and crushing it.

  "The faggots round the stake are lighted," said Richard. "But the witchhas fled."

  It seemed that the stars were devoured by the flame, so far did itoutshine them. The flame shrank in upon itself and collapsed. There wasno more House of Living Alone.

  "Oh, Richard," said Sarah Brown. "Your mother and Miss Ford and----"

  "Was mother in there?" asked Richard placidly. "Wonders will nevercease. Well, well, it is fortunate that no magic of any sort could evertouch mother."

  And indeed, as they pushed through the crowd, they saw all the recentoccupants of the Shop arguing at the front gate.

  "I didn't blow it," Mr. Tovey was saying in an aggrieved voice. "I wassinging, not blowing."

  "Well, all I know is that while you were on that high note somethingseemed to scatter the flames, and the drawer full of explosives caughtfire," said Mr. Darnby Frere aggressively, flourishing his empty biscuittin.

  "It doesn't matter," said Miss Ford calmly. "We are all going across thesea to-morrow." She roused herself a little, and said to Mr. Frere witha smile: "You know, I inherit the sea tradition. My father commandedH.M.S. _Indigestible_ in '84."

  "I wonder what put out the flame so suddenly?" asked Mr. Tovey, who wasstill dreamily beating time to imaginary music with one hand.

  "I put it out," said Richard.

  "I wonder whose house it is?" added Mr. Tovey, turning vaguely to faceRichard.

  "It is my house," said Richard.

  They all discovered his presence.

  "Your house, dear Rrchud?" exclaimed Lady Arabel. "Are you sure? Ididn't know the Higginses had any house property on Mitten Island."

  "They haven't now," replied Richard. "But never mind. It has alwaysseemed to me that there were too many houses in the world. Most housesare traps into which everything enters, and out of which nothing comes.It always grieves me to see tradesmen pouring sustenance in at the backdoor, and no result or justification coming out of the front door. Ioften think that only the houses that men's bodies have deserted arereally inhabited."

  "It was I who burnt your house down, Richard," said Miss Ford. "But itdoesn't matter. It wasn't a real house."

  "You are right," said Richard. "To such as you, dear Meta, it was not areal house. It was the House of Living Alone, and only to people wholive alone was it real. It is dark and deserted now, and levelled withthe cold ground; it is as though it were a tent, being moved from itsposition to follow the fortunes of those dwellers alone who wandercontinually in silence up and down the world...."

  He looked at Sarah Brown.

  "Talking of wandering," said Miss Ford. "We are all going to America,Richard. Can you get us passports?"

  "Certainly," agreed Richard. "To America, eh? A nice little trip for youall. America, you know, would be entirely magic, if it weren't for theAmericans...."

  "I have quite a circle of friends in New York," said Miss Ford, whoseemed to be recovering from her nerve-storm.

  "Beware," said Richard, "lest you all forget the magic of to-night, andchange from adventurers to tourists."

  "I am not going to America," said Lady Arabel. "I am going home. I neverheard such dretful nonsense. I was only in fun when I agreed to theplan."

  "I never agreed to the plan at all," said Mr. Frere. "I shall be trulythankful to get to bed, and wake up to-morrow sober. I will never go outto tea in Kensington again if this is the result."

  "I am going to America," said Mr. Tovey, fixing his innocent eyes,obscured by hair, upon Miss Ford.

  "I am going to America," echoed the unseen Mayor from an unexpecteddirection. Nobody had yet dared to tell him of the misfortune that hadovertaken him. "I'll give up this Mayor job to-morrer. Catch me stayin'be'ind if--oh, by the way, that reminds me----"

  "I didn't need reminding," interrupted Sarah Brown. "It seems to me thateverybody has forgotten why they came here. Please, Richard, do you knowof a spell to find a missing person?"

  "Yes, several," answered Richard, who was always as eager as atravelling salesman to recommend his wares. "There is an awfullyingenious little spell I can show you, if you happen to have atelephone book and a compass and a toad's heart and a hair from a blackgoat's beard about you. Or again, if you stand on a sea-beach at lowtide on Christmas night with the moon at your back and a wax candle inyour left hand, and write upon the sand the name--by the way, who is ityou want to find?"

  "The witch," answered Sarah Brown.

  Richard's face fell. "Oh, only the witch?" he said. "I can tell youwhere she is without any spell at all. She's with my True Love atHiggins Farm, helping--oh, by the way, mother, I forgot to tell you. Youare a grandmother."

  "RRCHUD!" said Lady Arabel. She sat down suddenly on the smooth grassslope between the road and the garden hedge. "Ah, it is too cruel," shecried, burying her face in her hands. "It is too cruel. Is this my son?I meant so well, and all my life I did the things that other people did,the natural things. Except just once. And for that once, I am so cruellypunished.... I am given a son who is no son to me, who says only thingsI mustn't understand ... who does only things I mustn't see...." Shepaused, and, taking her hands from her face, looked round aghast atRichard, who was sitting beside her on the bank, stroking her arm. "_Afaery son_ ..." she added in a terrified whisper, and then broke outagain crying: "Ah, it is too cruel...."

  Richard continued to stroke her arm without comprehension. "Yes, mother,and Peony, my True Love, insists on calling him Elbert," he said."Mother, listen, Elbert your faery grandson...."

  But Lady Arabel still sobbed.