“‘Yes. And I tried to think what to do, but I couldn’t. I kept growing colder and stiller—I couldn’t move. Then I thought about all of you, and there came a little warmth inside, and I knew the cold couldn’t reach me.’ “‘Because love was stronger than cold or dark?’ suggested Andromeda. “‘Yes; that was it. Nothing could put it out.’ “‘Then how did you find your way out?’ asked Cepheus, after a minute. “‘That was easy. When I thought of you and home, something pulled me; so I knew which way you were.’ “‘Then you came back,’ said Taygeta. “‘No, I didn’t. I couldn’t come without the star. And I thought if I kept going in the direction I started, I’d come to the right place. So I kept on, the way I didn’t want to go.’ “‘Now, I call that downright clever!’ said Draco. ‘It thowth what it ith to uthe your reathon.’ “‘Merope always was the brightest one of our family, really,’ said Maia. ‘What did you do then?’ “‘Kept on. And after I came out of the dark I was not very far from the new stars.’ “‘Oh, tell us about them!’ said Cassiopeia. ‘How are they made? Tell us every single thing!’ “‘I can’t,’ said Merope. ‘I’m not good at understanding such things. There were a great many—all colors. I think they are made of something very light—and spread out—it was like fog, in places; then, in other places, it was whirling—I don’t know what makes it begin to whirl: then it seemed to thicken up, when it whirled—’ “‘How, thicken up?’ asked Orion. “‘I can’t explain; but the star-fog collected and drew together into a ball, and that was the star. There were all sizes and kinds. Sometimes there was one in the centre and more little stars whirling around in rings outside it. And trails of fog—I never could describe it. You would have to see for yourself. And they sang. Oh, it was beautiful!’ Then she stopped again, to recall it; and that was trying to the others, because she certainly did not make things very clear to them. “‘Now, Merope,’ said Cassiopeia, ‘you give your mind to it, and describe things a little better. I wish I’d gone myself. I could tell what I’d seen and heard. What was the singing like?’ “‘It wasn’t like anything,’ said Merope. ‘That’s why I can’t tell you. It was quite, quite beautiful. Every star—when it whirled—seemed to have its own song—’ “‘Like tops?’ asked Perseus. “‘Perhaps, a little—’ said Merope, doubtfully; ‘and all the songs made one; and—I don’t know what it said, but I think—’ then she hesitated. “‘_Go on!_’ said Maia. “‘I think it said, they were glad they were alive.’ “‘Of course,’ said Cassiopeia. ‘Then what?’ “‘Then it was time for me to come home.’ “‘Didn’t you dread coming through the dark place again?’ asked Electra. “‘Yes. But I knew I could get through. And it wasn’t so hard as going; all I had to do was to come the way I wanted to. So I just came.’ “‘But, Merope,’ said Andromeda, ‘where is your new star?’