“Don’t you see, Pat?” explained Phyllisy. “It’s the old Dipper we always knew—part of it is. I never thought of it’s being the same.” “Two names for it?” asked Pat, looking at the Princess. She nodded. “I know another one.” “Aren’t you going to tell it?” “Bimeby,” she said again, just as she had said it before. And that was drawing enough, and no time for a story, but much better for a scamper on the beach, along the edge of the waves that had stopped going out and were running all the time nearer. V MAJOR Exactly far enough to be convenient to sit down for a while was the old great Wreck that had been there for years and years and years. So there was only a part of it left, pushed deep in the sand, and sand inside, because the sea had eaten away the rest. And it was pale and gray-bleached where it stood up toward the sky, but underneath dark and sodden, with long seaweed weeping off into the water—back and forth—back and forth—forever. Going up by the rocks on the other side, some strong timbers laid over made a bridge across into the broken place where her ribs showed. There were pale waves churning, flat, in and out among the rocks and below the bridge when they crossed over and came out on the old gray deck with the old black capstan standing in the middle of it; and everywhere around there was water. The Ocean was much larger from here than it was when they were walking on the sand; so large that any ship in the whole wide world _might_ have come sailing across it—and a fair wind blowing. The Princess looked for several minutes, to see if there was coming the finest ship afloat. And there was not; but she hadn’t expected it, because she knew it was not there. “Now is it a suitable time to tell it?” asked Pat. And the Princess thought it was, while they rested, sitting on the tilting deck, with the sea running in and out in the dark hollow place under it. “You know how you feel about something that is _always there_,” she began; “a tree on the lawn, or a church steeple, or something you take for granted and expect to see when you look for it. You don’t look the first thing in the morning to see if it has gone away in the night. “That was the way with Major. The Star People were so used to seeing him in his place that they thought very little about him. “It was rather cloudy one morning when it was time to fade away, and it promised to be more cloudy by night. The Star People had plans for what they wanted to do; and they waked up, quite full of their own affairs. So, though each one of them in Major’s neighborhood had a feeling that something was strange and lacking, they didn’t think enough about it to realize what it was. And it wasn’t until Cepheus said suddenly: ‘Why, where’s Major?’ that they saw that he was gone, and that was what they missed. “‘Now, what do you thuppoth pothethed him?’ said Draco.