Again the tears flowed down the Clockwork man's cheeks, this time in a sequence of regular streams. "We have only one hope, and even that is an illusion. Sometimes we think the makers will take us seriously in the end, and so perfect the mechanism that we shall be like them. But how can they? How can they--unless--unless--" "Unless what?" eagerly enquired Arthur, fearful of a final collapse. "Unless we die," said the Clockwork man, clicking slightly, "unless we consent to be broken up and put into the earth, and wait while we slowly turn into little worms, and then into big worms; and then into clumsy, crawling creatures, and finally come back again to the Vale of Tears." He swayed slightly, with a finger lodged against his nose. "But it will take such a frightful time, you know. That's why we chose to have the clock. We were impatient. We were tired of waiting. The makers said we must have patience; and we could not get patience. They said that creation really took place in the twinkling of an eye, and we must have patience." "Patience!" echoed Arthur. "Yes, I think they were right. We must have patience. We have to wait." For a few moments the Clockwork man struggled along with a succession of staccato sentences and irrelevant words, and finally seemed to realise that the game was up. "I can't go on like this," he concluded, in a shrill undertone. "I ought not to have tried to talk like this. It upsets the mechanism. I wasn't meant for this sort of thing. I must go now." He began to grow dim. Arthur, instinctively polite, stretched out a hand, keeping his left arm round Rose. The Clockwork man veered slightly forward. He seemed to realise Arthur's intention and offered a vibrating hand. But they missed each other by several days. "Oh, don't you see?" the faint voice asseverated. "But what are we to do?" said Arthur, raising his voice. "Tell us what we must do to avoid following you?" "I don't know." The thin voice sounded like someone shouting in the distance. "How should I know? It's all so difficult. But don't make it more difficult than you can help. Keep smiling--laughter--such a jolly little world." He was fading rapidly. "Come back," shouted Arthur, scarcely knowing why he was so in earnest. "You must come back and tell us." "Wallabaloo," echoed through the months. "Wum--wum--" "What's that," Rose exclaimed, suddenly awakened. "Hark," said Arthur, clutching her tightly. "Be quiet--I want to listen for something." "Nine and ninepence--" he heard at last, very thin and distinct. And then there was stillness. THE END Printed in Great Britain by Woods & Sons, Ltd., 338-340, Upper Street, N. 1. _NEW FICTION._ _TWO SHALL BE BORN._ _By Marie Conway Oemler._ _THE MUTINEERS._ _By Charles Boardman Hawes._ _MR. BAILEY MARTIN, O.B.E._ _By Percy White._ _CHILDREN OF THE DAWN._ _By Mary Carbery._ _THE BRIGHT SHAWL._ _By Joseph Hergesheimer._