Often Raphael would lean out of the nursery window and wonder what lay beyond the wooded hill that sheltered the little farm from the north wind. There must be, he thought, great cities and seas and mountains. And animals like the tigers and giraffes which chased each other round his bedroom wall paper. Some day he would take Cassie and run away and visit these places. They would see the whole world for themselves. One night when Raphael went to bed, he did not fall asleep. Instead he lay and watched the moonlight on the window sill. Across the room he could see the white outline of Cassandra’s bed, and Cassie a motionless white mound asleep in it. To-morrow, he thought, sleepily, I must build a house for the robins. Habakkuk needs a bath and a new collar. Why do dogs hate baths? Why do I hate to have my face washed? Everything Aunt Mary called good was hateful. A railroad engine hooted for the crossing a mile beyond the barn. Raphael heard the roar and rattle of the cars as they pounded over the tracks which curved through the valley like sleeping snakes. Trains were fast and powerful. He loved to watch them race to and from Uniontown. Then a strange thing happened. Cassandra stirred in bed, pushing aside the blankets. Raphael watched her rise and walk to the open window. He was about to whisper to her, when she climbed over the sill onto the little porch which jutted out over the back door. Raphael immediately jumped from his bed and crossed to the window. While he looked out, his sister climbed down the trellis that edged the porch and walked like a little white ghost past the barn and into the orchard that lay along the slope of the hill. Raphael followed quietly. Aunt Mary would be very angry if she knew they were out of bed. Everything was moist and silver in the moonlight. The grass bent under Raphael’s feet as he hurried through the orchard and over the stone wall that rimmed the woods. By the time he had crossed the rough wall and felt the little sticks of the wood path under his bare feet, Cassandra had disappeared. Raphael hitched up his purple pajamas and ran. He had taken only a few steps when to his amazement he heard the sound of voices. He stopped short, listened a moment, and then crept forward. He saw his sister standing before a tall figure which blocked the wood path. Raphael could not see the stranger’s face, but he heard him say: ‘If you will come with me, Cassandra, I will take you to a city full of strange toys. You shall have dolls to play with, dolls that walk and talk; and houses for them to live in with running water and elevators and electric lights. You shall have a little automobile, and a great store full of toys all to yourself.’ ‘Yes,’ whispered Cassandra. ‘Will you come with me?’ went on the stranger. ‘You needn’t be afraid. I won’t harm you.’ ‘Yes,’ repeated Cassandra. Her voice was husky with sleep. ‘Come, then,’ commanded the stranger and held out his arms. ‘I order it. You cannot disobey.’