'Oh, I say!' said Jimbo sedately, 'you must punish her for that, you know. Shall I come with you to the carpenter's?' he added, as they stood a moment by the fountain. 'There's just ten minutes to wash and brush your hair for supper.' 'I think I can find my way alone,' he answered, 'thank you all the same.' 'It's nothing,' he said, lifting his cap as the village fashion was, and watching his cousin's lengthy figure vanish down the street. 'We'll meet at the Pension later,' the voice came back, 'and in the morning I shall have a lot of correspondence to attend to. Bring your shorthand book and lots of pencils, mind.' 'How many?' 'Oh, half a dozen will do.' The boy turned in and hurried after his sister. But he was so busy collecting all the pencils and paper he could find that he forgot to brush his hair, and consequently appeared at the supper table with a head like a tangled blackberry bush. His eyes were bright as stars. CHAPTER XIV O pure one, take thy seat in the barque of the Sun, And sail thou over the sky. Sail thou with the imperishable stars, Sail thou with the unwearied stars. _Pyramid Texts, Dynasty VI._ But Henry Rogers ran the whole two hundred yards to his lodgings in the carpenter's house. He ran as though the entire field of brilliant stars were at his heels. There was bewilderment, happiness, exhilaration in his blood. He had never felt so light-hearted in his life. He felt exactly fifteen years of age--and a half. The half was added to ensure a good, safe margin over the other two. But he was late for supper too--later than the children, for first he jotted down some notes upon the back of an envelope. He wrote them at high speed, meaning to correct them later, but the corrections were never made. Later, when he came to bed, the envelope had been tidied away by the careful housewife into the dustbin. And he was ashamed to ask for them. The carpenter's wife read English. 'Pity,' he said to himself. 'I don't believe Minks could have done it better!' The energy that went to the making of those 'notes' would have run down different channels a few years ago. It would have gone into some ingenious patent. The patent, however, might equally have gone into the dustbin. There is an enormous quantity of misdirected energy pouring loose about the world! The notes had run something like this-- O children, open your arms to me, Let your hair fall over my eyes; Let me sleep a moment--and then awake In your Gardens of sweet Surprise! For the grown-up folk Are a wearisome folk, And they laugh my fancies to scorn, My fun and my fancies to scorn.