phase," said Tom. "You can no more escape this phase or the tree-climbing and cave-building age in your children than the human race has been able to escape it. If you are modern, as you pretend to be, you can't suppress things like lucky stones."
All through supper Tom skirted the subject. His curiosity had been piqued by the phenomenon of the Witch of Endor, the burning of the "three gray ones," the lucky stones, and the form of Robert's obscure threat. But nothing more was to be got from the children. They exchanged knowing looks from time to time which showed a wisdom and knowledge shared by them beyond their elders.
Alice watched them with attention. It seemed as though her children were living in some fourth dimension of the spirit which she could sense but not enter, and which would continually tease her imagination until she too could step within it.
Tom arose from the table and with the evening paper in his hand started for the library. His toe stubbed against some heavy object.
"What the dickens is this?" he cried, and, stooping, raised in his hand what was apparently a black cobblestone of the largest size, encircled with white.
The day of philosophy was over. Interest in folklore had fled. He threw open the window and flung the stone far out into the night. From Sara burst a terrible cry.
"My lucky stone!" she wailed. "Oh, my lucky stone! Oh, my luck has gone!"
At this, with an impish gleam in his eye, Robert leaned over and whispered:
"The Attic Fairy!"
Later Alice observed Robert crouched close to the open fireplace, sibilantly talking up it, while Sara, whose
