Two Litre Pinerims’ Progress 183

“ Weil,” she said, “it’s a fairy story, and it’s getting
fairyer and fairyer every minute.”

She leaned forward with her heart quite throbbing.
Because it was he who did this splendid thing—he to
whom all things seemed possible—it actually seemed
a thing to be accepted as if a magician had done it.

“Oh, how good you are to us!” she said. “How
good and how good! And what is the use of saying
only ‘Thank you. Ishould not be surprised,” with a
touch of awe, “if you took us to a hotel built of gold.”

How heartily John Holt laughed then.

“Well, some of them ought to be by the time this
thing’s over,” he said. “But the lights will soon be
out, the people are going, and Ben’s nearly dead.
Let’s go and find a carriage.