the dancing
sand. For a few seconds the water ran over the silver without doing
anything: only the coins seemed to grow very bright and clean. Then one
of the shillings was very neatly and smoothly slid off, and then
another and a sixpence. I waited, but no more happened, and the water
seemed to draw itself down and away from my hand, and to say "_All
right_." So I got up.

The three coins lay on the bottom of the pool looking brighter than even
the newest I have ever seen, and gradually as they lay there they began
to appear larger. The shillings looked like half-crowns and the sixpence
like a shilling. I thought for a moment that it was because water
magnifies, but I soon saw that this could not be the reason, for they
went on growing larger, and of course thinner, until they finally spread
into a kind of silver film all over the bottom of the pool; and as they
did so the water began to take on a musical sound, much like the singing
that comes when you wet your finger and draw it round the edge of a
finger glass at dessert (which some people's idea of table manners
allows them to do). It was a pretty sight and sound, and I listened and
looked for a long time.

But all this time what had become of the plant? Why, when I gave the
silver to the spring I had wrapped the plant carefully in a silk
handkerchief and put it safe in my breast pocket. I took the
handkerchief out now, and for a moment I was afraid the plant was gone;
but it was not. It had shrunk to a very small whity-green ball. Now what
was to be done with it, or rather what could it do? It was plain to me
that it must have a strange and valuable property or virtue, since I had
been put on its track in such a remarkable way. I thought I could not do
better than ask the spring. I said, "O Spring of water, have I your good
leave to ask what I should do with this precious plant to put it to the
best use?" The silver lining of the spring made its words much easier to
catch when it said anything--for I should tell you that for the most
part now it did not speak, or not in any language that I could
understand, but rather sang--and it now said, "_Swallow swallow, drink,
swallow_."

_Prompt_ obedience, dear Jane, has always been my motto, as it is
doubtless yours, and I at once laid myself down, drank a mouthful of
water from the spring, and put the little bulb in my mouth. It instantly
grew soft and slipped down my throat. How prosaic! I have no idea what
it taste