He seemed to be melting before their eyes and becoming transparent. He did not cry; but seemed rather to be transformed into a sort of damp and clinging fog. "Just as though he were 'dissolving in tears,'" thought Smaly. And he stared curiously at the Confectioner who every moment became more cloud-like than ever. [Illustration: THE SPONGES] But suddenly the vague outline of a hand, which was all that remained of him, struck the vaguer outline of his forehead as though an idea had come to him. Once more his face assumed a clarity as though it were made of mother-of-pearl, and he cried out: "Reckybecky!" This name reverberated round and about like a clap of thunder. It went on and on, making such a noise that all the little Wigs left off scraping up the jam and scampered away. Redy felt afraid. Smaly jumped off the patten on which he had remained perched during the eclipse of the Confectioner. As to the latter, he endeavoured to shut his mouth and stop the noise from going on echoing; but he was not very solid again as yet and found some difficulty in doing it. At the end of the long avenue of sugar-trees Redy could see little groups of people gathered together looking about them to try and discover whence came this noise. The Confectioner succeeded in shutting his mouth, and then turning towards Redy he opened it again, and remarked firmly: "You are a stupid little thing." Then turning to Smaly he said, with that confidential accent which one adopts when singling out the most intelligent person of a company for one's remarks: "No, I cannot be Reckybecky, for somebody else is Reckybecky, so there!" The Confectioner seemed extremely relieved by this remarkable solution. [Illustration: TO RETURN TO A MERE SHAPELESS THING ONCE AGAIN] "Reckybecky must be the doorkeeper," he added firmly. "The doorkeeper?" asked Smaly and Redy. "Certainly, we've had a doorkeeper for years, and one day a traveller told us that since we had a doorkeeper it was necessary we should have a door, and then the Despoiler, who is the wisest of all of us, except the Mother of the Crow, decided that since we had a porter who was made of chocolate, we must have a gate made for him, and that the gate should be made of chocolate to match." Smaly and Redy turned to look back at the door; the grille by which they had entered had disappeared, and everywhere the chocolate had become solid once again. [Illustration: A TRAVELLER TOLD US]