and the moon-seeds, and laid them on the turf and explained.
And in the middle of the explanation a shadow fell on the children and the Tinkler and the moon-seeds and the seal, and there was a big, handsome gentleman looking down at them and saying—
"Introduce your friend, Edred."
"Oh, Dickie, this is my father," cried Edred, scrambling up. And Dickie added very quickly, "My name's Dick Harding." It took longer for Dickie to get up because of the crutch, and Lord Arden reached his hand down to help him. He must have been a little surprised when the crippled child in the shabby clothes stood up, and instead of touching his forehead, as poor children are taught to do, held out his hand and said—
"How do you do, Lord Arden?"
"I am very well, I thank you," said Lord Arden. "And where did you spring from? You are not a native of these parts, I think?"
"No, but my adopted father is," said Dickie, "and I came from London with him, to see his father, who is old Mr. Beale, and we are staying at his cottage."
Lord Arden sat down beside them on the turf and asked Dickie a good many questions about where he was born, and who he had lived with, and what he had seen and done and been.
Dickie answered honestly and straightforwardly. Only of course he did not tell about the magic, or say that in that magic world he
