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girls？ Selina was distinctly handy in a boat： the difficulty about her was；
that if she disapproved of the expeditionand； morally considered； it was
not exactly a Pilgrim's Progressshe might go and tell； she having just
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reached that disagreeable age when one begins to develop a conscience。
Charlotte； for her part； had a habit of day…dreams； and was as likely as not
to fall overboard in one of her rapt musings。 To be sure； she would
dissolve in tears when she found herself left out； but even that was better
than a watery tomb。 In fine； the public voiceand rightly； perhapswas
against the admission of the skirted animal： spite the precedent of Atalanta；
who was one of the original crew。
〃And now；〃 said Edward； 〃who's to ask Farmer Larkin？ I can't； last
time I saw him he said when he caught me again he'd smack my head。
YOU'LL have to。〃
I hesitated； for good reasons。 〃You know those precious calves of
his？〃 I began。
Edward understood at once。 〃All right；〃 he said； 〃then we won't ask
him at all。 It doesn't much matter。 He'd only be annoyed； and that
would be a pity。 Now let's set off。〃
We made our way down to the stream； and captured the farmer's boat
without let or hindrance； the enemy being engaged in the hayfields。 This
〃river；〃 so called； could never be discovered by us in any atlas； indeed our
Argo could hardly turn in it without risk of shipwreck。 But to us 't was
Orinoco； and the cities of the world dotted its shores。 We put the Argo's
head up stream； since that led away from the Larkin province； Harold was
faithfully permitted to be Jason； and we shared the rest of the heroes
among us。 Then launching forth from Thessaly； we threaded the
Hellespont with shouts； breathlessly dodged the Clashing Rocks； and
coasted under the lee of the Siren…haunted isles。 Lemnos was fringed
with meadow…sweet； dog…roses dotted the Mysian shore； and the cheery
call of the haymaking folk sounded along the coast of Thrace。
After some hour or two's seafaring； the prow of the Argo embedded
itself in the mud of a landing…place； plashy with the tread of cows and
giving on to a lane that led towards the smoke of human habitations。
Edward jumped ashore； alert for exploration； and strode off without
waiting to see if we followed； but I lingered behind； having caught sight of
a moss…grown water…gate hard by； leading into a garden that from the
brooding quiet lapping it round； appeared to portend magical possibilities。
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The Golden Age
Indeed the very air within seemed stiller； as we circumspectly passed
through the gate； and Harold hung back shamefaced； as if we were
crossing the threshold of some private chamber； and ghosts of old days
were hustling past us。 Flowers there were； everywhere； but they drooped
and sprawled in an overgrowth hinting at indifference； the scent of
heliotrope possessed the place； as if actually hung in solid festoons from
tall untrimmed hedge to hedge。 No basket…chairs； shawls； or novels
dotted the lawn with colour； and on the garden…front of the house behind；
the blinds were mostly drawn。 A grey old sun…dial dominated the central
sward； and we moved towards it instinctively； as the most human thing
visible。 An antique motto ran round it； and with eyes and fingers we
struggled at the decipherment。
〃TIME： TRYETH： TROTHE：〃 spelt out Harold at last。 〃I wonder
what that means？〃
I could not enlighten him； nor meet his further questions as to the inner
mechanism of the thing； and where you wound it up。
I had seen these instruments before； of course； but had never fully
understood their manner of working。
We were still puzzling our heads over the contrivance； when I became
aware that Medea herself was moving down the path from the house。
Dark…haired； supple； of a figure lightly poised and swayed； but pale and
listlessI knew her at once； and having come out to find her； naturally felt
no surprise at all。 But Harold； who was trying to climb on the top of the
sun…dial； having a cat…like fondness for the summit of things； started and
fell prone； barking his chin and filling the pleasance with lamentation。
Medea skimmed the ground swallow…like； and in a moment was on her
knees comforting him；wiping the dirt out of his chin with her own dainty
handkerchief；and vocal with soft murmur of consolation。
〃You needn't take on so about him；〃 I observed； politely。 〃He'll cry
for just one minute； and then he'll be all right。〃
My estimate was justified。 At the end of his regulation time Harold
stopped crying suddenly； like a clock that had struck its hour； and with a
serene and cheerful countenance wriggled out of Medea's embrace； and
ran for a stone to throw at an intrusive blackbird。
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〃O you boys！〃 cried Medea； throwing wide her arms with
abandonment。 〃Where have you dropped from？ How dirty you are！
I've been shut up here for a thousand years； and all that time I've never
seen any one under a hundred and fifty！ Let's play at something； at
once！〃
〃Rounders is a good game；〃 I suggested。 〃Girls can play at rounders。
And we could serve up to the sun…dial here。 But you want a bat and a
ball； and some more people。〃
She struck her hands together tragically。 〃I haven't a bat；〃 she cried；
〃or a ball； or more people； or anything sensible whatever。 Never mind； let's
play at hide…and…seek in the kitchen garden。 And we'll race there； up to
that walnut…tree； I haven't run for a century！〃
She was so easy a victor； nevertheless； that I began to doubt； as I
panted behind； whether she had not exaggerated her age by