"They shall all go," Tom announced firmly. "From now on there are no fairies of any nature or description allowed in this house. And all the gods have got to go!"
He looked belligerently at his son. Robert was also one who could rise to an occasion.
"I was getting sick of the old things anyway," he said. He sidled up to Sara. "While they were looking for you I looked for your lucky stone and found it," he said in the ungracious tone employed by small boys when doing kind acts.
Sara took her stone and clutched it to her bosom. It evidently fulfilled her heart's desire.
"I don't care about 'em," said Sara. "I can have mine outside, and Robert's was always getting more powerful than mine. I don't want 'em, and besides, Mother, I know why he's sick of 'em. Uncle Zotsby don't like 'em!"
"And, Mother," said Robert censoriously, "now that they've all gone, I think Sara ought to have science explained to her. She ought to be told that burning up a switch or anything else won't bring anything to life."
Alice looked at Sara. She thought of the abandon of her grief and of her heroic desperation. It was no time for an anti-climax.
"I'll do that some other time," she told Robert.
That night she went up to Sara's room to see if she slept peacefully after her eventful day. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and sat on something hard.
It was the lucky stone. Alice sighed. She knew that the fairies might be gone and the gods banished, but now for weeks and weeks, wherever Sara went, this large cobblestone would go. One would be forever stubbing one's toe upon it, or sitting down on it in chairs where
