The weary waitresses thought the youths were making fun of them, but seeing the gold, and glad to be rid of their balance of scones and buns, they piled all they had before these customers, brought great tins of milk, and packets full of chocolate, with all the chipped, cracked cups they could hurriedly find and spare. One of these unwitting philanthropists stared at the sixpence-halfpenny change which a conscientious cashier had put in his gloved hand; the other gazed through his eyeglass, startled by the quantity of their purchases. June smilingly approved their deeds and intentions. "We’ll have a growler!" they declared together. A curious crowd of waitresses and passers-by helped them to load the vehicle, repeated their united command to go "That way"--Eastward--and sped them on their journey with a laughing cheer. "What have we done this for?" said the one to the other. "Lord knows," was the answer, "but we’ll do it." Lulled by the closeness of the cab, the smell of the buns, the rattle of the cups, and their innate sense of virtuous doing, the happy couple put heads together and slept, till they were wakened by the rattling and clattering of the cab passing over a granite causeway. The Jehu came to his senses first. June, who had been standing in his chest pocket, where he illegally kept his badge, stopped him by Paradise Court. "I dunno why I done it, but I did!" he said to a policeman, who, seeing a waiting cab, had sauntered up. Bim came scurrying down from the roof. "Sit on his head," June commanded him. The gnome perched on the policeman’s helmet. "Make him help!" The youths dragged at and lifted down their tins of milk. Then the cabman, policeman, and they boldly entered the court, crept into every room of every house--there are few locks in Paradise Court, and bolts are seldom shot there--and put by each sleeping child a cup of milk, a bun and a piece of chocolate--surprises for their awakening. The good things were just enough for the number needing them, with five buns left over, which the cabman pocketed. The human quartet eventually emerged from the court, radiant with kindness. "I could do a drink," said the policeman, darkening his bull’s-eye lantern. "Same ’ere," said the heated charioteer. "And so say all of us!" chimed the youths. The policeman gave a peculiar whistle. An upper window of the public-house was quietly opened. "’Oo goes there?" whispered Bung. "Us, Tim," said the policeman. "Right-oh, Alfred! ’arf a mo’." The wearer of the monocle produced some silver. "My turn," he said; "four whiskies." While these givers of goodness rewarded themselves, June went to her nest for sleep. "This is the beginning of the new Fairyland," she said gratefully to Bim, who beamed. *CHAPTER IX* *THE PROGRESS OF OBERON*