They came from meadows fresh and green Which they had cropped together, They came from meadows fresh and green And they were going whither? They came from meadows fresh and green.” [Illustration: GYPSY AND GINGER RETIRE FROM BUSINESS] When Ginger said she couldn’t bear it any more, she meant it. She had lived in London well over two months now, and that was longer than she had ever lived anywhere else in her life. She had a terror of falling into grooves and never being able to climb out again. Besides, August was upon them, and London in August is no place for anybody. So Ginger said to Gypsy, “We must be off.” “How?” asked Gypsy. “By the first train from the nearest station,” said Ginger positively. Gypsy looked at the Trafalgar Tube and said, “Shall we go to the Elephant and Castle, or to Edgeware Road?” Ginger shed three tears and said, “If I don’t smell hay and hear corn to-day, I shall die.” Gypsy shook the pillar-box gravely. He shook it to the extent of fivepence halfpenny. “How did the halfpenny get in?” he said sternly. “Has somebody been cheating?” “No,” said Ginger, “that was given me last Sunday by a poor child under twelve. What’s the matter with you? Children under twelve are half-price for everything, aren’t they?” “Did you say a poor child?” asked Gypsy. “Yes,” said Ginger. “I gave it sixpence change. It was so extremely under twelve, you see. It said it would come again to ask the weather next Sunday and bring its cousins.” “Well, it’s going to be disappointed,” said Gypsy. “Though how we’re to take tickets to hay and corn on fivepence halfpenny, I don’t quite know. We shall have to walk; unless we stay over to-morrow and put in a really hard day’s work and earn our fares. What do you say to that?” “Oh yes,” said Ginger, “and then we can give a party to-night and say good-bye to everybody.” So they settled down to put in a really hard day’s work. The day helped them a lot. It was a sultry, many-minded day; it did a variety of things with heavy heatwaves to begin with, and then it muttered in the distance, and shed a few big drops, and slacked off for a bit; then it rolled up a lot of dark blue clouds, and then a lot of black ones. Mr. Morley came over from his hotel to say that it was so dark in the Reading Room that the visitors couldn’t read, and he wanted Gypsy’s advice about turning on the electric light. Gypsy, half in and half out of his door, looked at the sky and said: “I think you’d better turn it on.” Mr. Morley thanked him, and tipped him half-a-crown (they do it handsomely at Morley’s). “Can I have it in pennies?” asked Gypsy. “Certainly,” said Mr. Morley. He counted thirty pennies into Gypsy’s hand, and crossed the road.