It was a welcome invitation. They were quick to shout their thanks and to make themselves tidy. When they entered the parlour, where the sun was peeping in again after his absence, their mother said quietly-- "I'm glad you've escaped the storm." Later on, they all three sat in the gathering twilight at the large bow-window watching Nature going to sleep. The two children sat up very late that night--and they told their mother such an extraordinary story that she wondered how ever it could have got into their heads; and wondered where they could have read it. But they knew they hadn't read it. "Look at the bump on Cyril's forehead!" exclaimed Dulcie, as conclusive evidence of the fight. But their mother only shook her head. Cyril often wore such marks of battle. "And, little Mother, we _are_ so glad to be at home." She laughed. But they meant it. THE OLD-FANGLED FATHER AND HIS NEW-FANGLED SONS Centuries ago, an old father--as old as one of them--lay on his couch feeling that his end was near. He was not surprised; in fact, he had foreseen it as he had foreseen many other events. And he was reputed wise beyond his years, and therefore far beyond those of the people who reputed it. So he called softly to him his three sons. They didn't hear him, being busy in different parts of the house; and it never occurred to him to ring the bell, because he was so old-fangled. He shouted to them, and they came. "I have three things to say to you," remarked the father solemnly. The sons fidgeted visibly; they had been studying, were not at home to any one, and particularly had not wished to be disturbed in their work. They thought that their father was going to begin another anecdote, and it put them out of humour; but they were startled when he said-- "My sons, my end is near." Each one replied with an endearing term--just one, for they were not men of many words. And they told him "it was only his fuss." That he was "only a hundred, and didn't look as if he were going to be cut off prematurely." "That he mustn't give in and should never say 'die.'" "I cannot argue the point," replied the old man. "Let me tell you my last wishes as briefly as I can, for my time is short." They tried to dissuade him from talking so much, but it was of no avail, for he protested that it was their duty to listen to him, and he insisted upon having last wishes as he had read that others had had before him, and it would be for the sons to obey and unravel them as best they could. Then the father, addressing the eldest, who was ambitious and already past middle age, spoke as follows:-- "My son, my first-born, find out the furthermost summit of the world, and when you have surmounted that, you can surmount anything." To his second son, who was avaricious and also getting old and rather bald, he said:-- "Sit patiently, and wait, and when you can hear a voice that comes from no living throat, and can see its traces, you will want for nothing."