Grif was very happy. Now that the music was ended he had the clearest sense of its reality. This feeling came upon him in a flash of astonishment, for while he had actually been listening it had all seemed a part of a dream. Now it was as if a warm physical touch on his cheek had awakened him. Where had the music gone to? He only knew that it had crossed the river and floated over the fields. Yet, if he had had wings or an aeroplane, he was sure he could have followed it. And he was sure it would have led him to some definite place, which he would have recognized at once as _the_ place, the end of his journey, the home of his hidden friend. But nature reminded him that he was getting extremely hungry, and he thought of the house so near, and of all the good things houses contain. He would go and ask for something to eat, and ask them to drive him home, for, more than he felt hungry, he felt suddenly and strangely tired. Once he had hit on this plan he did not hesitate. His view of the world was socialistic, though perhaps not one which most socialists would have recognized. Where there were houses there was food, and both food and houses were for every one. Also, when the houses were large, there were usually motor-cars, and motor-cars, too, were for every one. His simple philosophy was based on these premises, and he lived according to his philosophy, nor had it ever yet failed him. Therefore it was without the least sense of doing anything unusual that he rang at the hall-door and went in to lunch. CHAPTER XIII THE PERFUMES OF ARABIA ‘Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.’ ――_Coleridge._ Looking rather tired, with a large hole in the knee of his stocking, and a very dirty collar, but in the glory of a motor-car, Grif arrived home when the others were finishing dinner. The car had departed again before any one had time to reach the door, but Grif and Pouncer were there, upon the step, and in her relief at seeing him safe and sound Aunt Caroline forgot all about the scolding she had prepared. He was dragged into the dining-room by excited young Westons, though in the general hubbub nothing could be made out very clearly, except that he was home once more and had had his dinner. Ann, finding it difficult to get near her brother, devoted herself to Pouncer. For a minute or two the noise was deafening, because everybody tried to talk at once. Then Grif’s adventures were drawn from him in jerks, and the tale of Palmer’s burglar, who that morning had been discharged and sent back to his comrades, was told by Edward.