'Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?' he said, quite loud. And there was no one but himself to give the answer. 'If I could only get back into the city,' he said. 'But that hateful nurse has pulled it all down and locked up the nursery. So I can't even build it again. Oh, what _shall_ I do?' And with that he began to cry. For now he felt quite sure that the dream wasn't a dream--that he really _had_ got into the magic city, had promised to stand by Lucy, and had been false to his promise and to her. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and also--rather painfully--with Mr. Noah, whom he still held. 'What shall I do?' he sobbed. And a very very teeny tiny voice said: '~Put me down.~' 'Eh?' said Philip. '~Put me down~,' said the voice again. It was such a teeny tiny voice that he could only just hear it. It was unlikely, of course, that the voice could have been Mr. Noah's; but then whose else could it be? On the bare chance that it _might_ have been Mr. Noah who spoke--more unlikely things had happened before, as you know--Philip set the little wooden figure down on the chess-table. It stood there, wooden as ever. 'Put _who_ down?' Philip asked. And then, before his eyes, the little wooden figure grew alive, stooped to pick up the yellow disc of wood on which Noah's Ark people stand, rolled it up like a mat, put it under his arm and began to walk towards the side of the table where Philip stood. He knelt down to bring his ears nearer the little live moving thing. '_What_ did you say?' he asked, for he fancied that Mr. Noah had again spoken. '~I said, what's the matter?~' said the little voice. 'It's Lucy. She's lost and it's my fault. And I can only just hear you. It hurts my ears hearing you,' complained Philip. '~There's an ear-trumpet in a box on the middle of the cabinet~,' he could just hear the teeny tiny voice say; '~it belonged to a great-aunt. Get it out and listen through it~.' Philip got it out. It was an odd curly thing, and at first he could not be sure which end he ought to put to his ear. But he tried both ends, and on the second trial he heard quite a loud, strong, big voice say: 'That's better.' 'Then it wasn't a dream last night,' said Philip. 'Of course it wasn't,' said Mr. Noah. 'Then where is Lucy?' 'In the city, of course. Where you left her.' 'But she _can't_ be,' said Philip desperately. 'The city's all pulled down and gone for ever.' 'The city you built in this room is pulled down,' said Mr. Noah, 'but the city you went to wasn't in this room. Now I put it to you--how could it be?' 'But it _was_,' said Philip, 'or else how could I have got into it.' 'It's a little difficult, I own,' said Mr. Noah. 'But, you see, you built those cities in two worlds. It's pulled down in _this_ world. But in the other world it's going on.' 'I don't understand,' said Philip. 'I thought you wouldn't,' said Mr. Noah; 'but it's true, for all that. Everything people make in that world goes on for ever.'