But she must get back to Sally. She flew down to Bim, and held out her wand. he grasped it, and forthwith was up in the air, magically borne along by the hurrying fairy. It was no new thing for Bim to have an aerial journey. One of the favourite games of gnomes--naturally no more able to fly than a pig is capable of "Bo"--is to grab the legs of a pigeon and cause the silly bird to go circling. This was the first time his means of sky-progress had been a fairy. It was an experience strange, terrible and new, to be dragged and wafted over that wilderness of roofs. But it was also exhilarating. He began to sing in his croak of a voice an old elf-song about moonbeams that became icicles. June, listening to him, and watching the scene beneath, vowed and vowed again that she would not rest till London was restored to Fairyland. Bim had no consciousness, as he croaked and dangled there, of the effects of his influence on the fortunes of the dark city: London likewise had no idea of it. Sally was still waiting, though the passing of people on business to and from the Oldstein establishment had required her to move to another doorstep, where she sat and watched for the summons. This seeming neglect on the part of the red young man so irritated June that she flew in hottest haste, head first, through the opening for letters in the door, prepared energetically to remind him. He was sitting on a counter with stacks of clothing about him--how musty it all smelt!--hard at work reading a worn "horrible"--"Sweeney Todd" its hero--and yawning. Atmosphere, rather than weariness, caused the gape, which came to an abrupt close. As June was entering the warehouse from the back way, Max Oldstein, the only son of the "firm," was to be heard descending the stairs opposite. Jenkins was off his perch in an instant, and busily tumbling a bale of clothing from the counter to the floor. June viciously poked with her wand the scraggy nape of his neck to remind him of Sally. Her protest was effectual. He went to the door and shouted: "Come in, Kid!" Sally eagerly entered. She stood on the door-mat trembling. "Pay her four and twopenth," said the master, as he put a tick on the paper he held, "and tell ’er that if ’er people don’t do the work betterth, they’ll be wantin’ it." Max turned abruptly, and went to the other end of the shop, where he lighted a cigarette and thoughtfully admired the great gold ring on his large little finger. June, feeling angry because of his blatant unpleasantness, wished him a punishment of pain, which he felt. "My corn!" he said, "it’th goin’ to rain." Meanwhile Jenkins was addressing Sally. "You ’eard what the young guv’nor said? And don’t you forget it! There’s the oof--count it!--and ’ere’s another lot of material. See? Twenty pieces. Now, you can sling your ’ook!"