“It has another property, yet more wonderful,” said the Professor. “You see this little peg? That is called the 'Reversal Peg.' If you push it in, the events of the next hour happen in the reverse order. Do not try it now. I will lend you the Watch for a few days, and you can amuse yourself with experiments.” “Thank you very much!” I said as he gave me the Watch. “I'll take the greatest care of it--why, here are the children again!” “We could only but find six dindledums,” said Bruno, putting them into my hands, “'cause Sylvie said it were time to go back. And here's a big blackberry for ooself! We couldn't only find but two!” “Thank you: it's very nice,” I said. “And I suppose you ate the other, Bruno?” “No, I didn't,” Bruno said, carelessly. “Aren't they pretty dindledums, Mister Sir?” “Yes, very: but what makes you limp so, my child?” “Mine foot's come hurted again!” Bruno mournfully replied. And he sat down on the ground, and began nursing it. The Professor held his head between his hands--an attitude that I knew indicated distraction of mind. “Better rest a minute,” he said. “It may be better then--or it may be worse. If only I had some of my medicines here! I'm Court-Physician, you know,” he added, aside to me. “Shall I go and get you some blackberries, darling?” Sylvie whispered, with her arms round his neck; and she kissed away a tear that was trickling down his cheek. Bruno brightened up in a moment. “That are a good plan!” he exclaimed. “I thinks my foot would come quite unhurted, if I eated a blackberry--two or three blackberries--six or seven blackberries--” Sylvie got up hastily. “I'd better go,” she said, aside to me, “before he gets into the double figures!” “Let me come and help you,” I said. “I can reach higher up than you can.” “Yes, please,” said Sylvie, putting her hand into mine: and we walked off together. “Bruno loves blackberries,” she said, as we paced slowly along by a tall hedge, “that looked a promising place for them, and it was so sweet of him to make me eat the only one!” “Oh, it was you that ate it, then? Bruno didn't seem to like to tell me about it.” “No; I saw that,” said Sylvie. “He's always afraid of being praised. But he made me eat it, really! I would much rather he--oh, what's that?” And she clung to my hand, half-frightened, as we came in sight of a hare, lying on its side with legs stretched out just in the entrance to the wood. “It's a hare, my child. Perhaps it's asleep.” “No, it isn't asleep,” Sylvie said, timidly going nearer to look at it: “it's eyes are open. Is it--is it--her voice dropped to an awestruck whisper, is it dead, do you think?” “Yes, it's quite dead,” I said, after stooping to examine it. “Poor thing! I think it's been hunted to death. I know the harriers were out yesterday. But they haven't touched it. Perhaps they caught sight of another, and left it to die of fright and exhaustion.”