think of it? Weland gave the
Sword! The Sword gave the Treasure, and the Treasure gave the Law.
It's as natural as an oak growing.'

'I don't understand. Didn't he know it was Sir Richard's old
treasure?' said Dan. 'And why did Sir Richard and Brother Hugh leave
it lying about? And--and--'

'Never mind,' said Una politely. 'He'll let us come and go and look
and know another time. Won't you, Puck?' 'Another time maybe,' Puck
answered. 'Brr! It's cold--and late. I'll race you towards home!'

They hurried down into the sheltered valley. The sun had almost sunk
behind Cherry Clack, the trodden ground by the cattle-gates was
freezing at the edges, and the new-waked north wind blew the night on
them from over the hills. They picked up their feet and flew across
the browned pastures, and when they halted, panting in the steam of
their own breath, the dead leaves whirled up behind them. There was
Oak and Ash and Thorn enough in that year-end shower to magic away a
thousand memories.

So they trotted to the brook at the bottom of the lawn, wondering why
Flora and Folly had missed the quarry-hole fox.

Old Hobden was just finishing some hedge-work. They saw his white smock
glimmer in the twilight where he faggoted the rubbish.

'Winter, he's come, I reckon, Mus' Dan,' he called. 'Hard times now
till Heffle Cuckoo Fair. Yes, we'll all be glad to see the Old Woman
let the Cuckoo out o' the basket for to start lawful Spring in England.'

They heard a crash, and a stamp and a splash of water as though a heavy
old cow were crossing almost under their noses.

Hobden ran forward angrily to the ford.

'Gleason's bull again, playin' Robin all over the Farm! Oh, look, Mus'
Dan--his great footmark as big as a trencher. No bounds to his
impidence! He might count himself to be a man or--or Somebody--'

A voice the other side of the brook boomed:

'I wonder who his cloak would turn
When Puck had led him round,
Or where those walking fires would burn--'

Then the children went in singing 'Farewell, Rewards and Fairies' at
the tops of their voices. They had forgotten that they had not even
said good-night to Puck.

The Children's Song

Land of our Birth, we pledge to thee
Our love and toil in the years to be;
When we are grown and take our place
As men and women with our race.

Father in Heaven Who lovest all,
Oh, help Thy children when they call;
That they may build from ag