“Well,” said Anthea, after a silence, “I suppose it’s happy. The only thing it ever did really care for was _sand_.” “My dear children,” said the learned gentleman, “I must have fallen asleep. I’ve had the most extraordinary dream.” “I hope it was a nice one,” said Cyril with courtesy. “Yes.... I feel a new man after it. Absolutely a new man.” There was a ring at the front-door bell. The opening of a door. Voices. “It’s _them!_” cried Robert, and a thrill ran through four hearts. “Here!” cried Anthea, snatching the Amulet from Jane and pressing it into the hand of the learned gentleman. “Here—it’s _yours_—your very own—a present from us, because you’re Rekh-marā as well as... I mean, because you’re such a dear.” She hugged him briefly but fervently, and the four swept down the stairs to the hall, where a cabman was bringing in boxes, and where, heavily disguised in travelling cloaks and wraps, was their hearts’ desire—three-fold—Mother, Father, and The Lamb. “Bless me!” said the learned gentleman, left alone, “bless me! What a treasure! The dear children! It must be their affection that has given me these luminous _aperçus_. I seem to see so many things now—things I never saw before! The dear children! The dear, dear children!”