"But it's so _queer_," Mollie said doubtfully. "I never _heard_ of such a thing. I must be dreaming." The other child shook her head. "No, you're not," she said patiently. She looked around the room as though in search of inspiration, and her eyes fell upon a volume of Shakespeare which Aunt Mary had been reading: "Do you learn Shakespeare at your school?" she asked. "Rather," Mollie answered, in a slightly superior voice; "I have acted in six plays." "Ah--then you remember what Hamlet says: 'There are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy'." "We haven't done _Hamlet_ yet," Mollie answered, in a less superior tone, "I don't think I quite understand what that means." "Neither do I," said the child. "That's it, you see. Papa says--" she stopped short again, and then went on. "It's nearly time for me to go--and I can never come back if you don't come this time," moving away a few steps as she spoke. "Oh, don't go--don't go," Mollie cried. "I do want to come; it won't do anyone any harm, will it?" The child smiled very sweetly: "Not the least in the world. But remember the vow. On your faith and honour." "I vow, I vow--on my word of honour as a Guide. I can't say more than that." "Give me your hand, then. Listen to the music, and shut your eyes till I tell you to open them." Mollie closed her eyes. She had a queer swimmy feeling, as if she were in a high swing and were just swooping down to the lowest point. All the time Aunt Mary's tunes went on, but they seemed to go farther and farther away. "Open," said a soft voice. * * * * * The darkened room had vanished, and the ticking clock; Aunt Mary's tunes and the rain splashing on the window-panes; the sofa too, and the prim child. And Mollie herself! * * * * * She was standing in a sunny road, with one foot on a white painted wooden gate, upon which she had evidently been swinging. The gate opened into a large garden, and before her lay a broad path planted on either side with tall, pointed cypress trees, their thin shadows lying across the walk like black bars. Between the trees ran narrow flower-beds, and beyond these stretched a wide, open space, so solidly spread with yellow dandelions that it looked as though the golden floor of heaven had come to rest upon earth. The path, with its sentinel trees, led straight as a rod to a distant house, long and low, surrounded by a vine-covered veranda. There were strange, sweet smells in the air, which felt soft and warm. The sky was brilliantly blue, and on the fence across the road a gorgeous parrot sat preening its feathers in the sunshine. Mollie looked about her with curious eyes, wondering where she was. Not in England, of that she was sure--there was a different feel in the air, colours were brighter, scents were stronger, and that radiant parrot would never perch itself so tranquilly upon an English fence.