his big
round childlike eyes dwelt fondly on the old man, and there was
something like a smile about his lips. He was seated gently in a chair
within the room, and while Mr. Punch's father set down his lantern on a
table, the others looked about them.

They were in a small square room with a low ceiling. By the dim light of
the candle they could see that it was bare and dusty; cobwebs hung in
all the corners; there seemed to be no windows, but set upright in one
wall was what looked like the back of a clock, as tall as a man.
Opposite the door by which they had entered was another door. Around the
walls were shelves, from floor to ceiling, crowded with hour-glasses of
all sizes.

The old gentleman observed the look which Toby cast at the shelves.

"One of my store-rooms," said he. "I've got a good many of 'em, all
told, and in fact you'll find a store-room of mine in the top of nearly
every clock-tower in the world. It takes a deal of space to keep all the
hour-glasses in, I can tell you. If you'll give me yours, I'll put 'em
away for you. Shiraz got 'em away from me once, but he won't do it
again. He manages to steal one now and then, when I'm away, but I
usually get 'em back, sooner or later."

He collected the hour-glasses from his visitors, and put them away on a
shelf.

"Look 'ere, parent," said Mr. Punch, "hif I didn't know better, I'd s'y
as I'd seen this room before. There's the back of the clock, and the
door over there looks like--"

"You've a sharp eye, Punch, my boy," said the old gentleman. "Quite a
detective you are, my son. Now, then, we'd better get busy. Aunt Amanda,
do you want me to cast off your enchantment?"

"Why do you call me that?" asked Queen Miranda.

"Because that's your name. Don't you know who you are?"

"I know I was enchanted once, under the name of Aunt Amanda."

"No, no. You're enchanted _now_, under the name of Queen Miranda."

"But Shiraz the Persian told us he would disenchant us, and he did."

"No, no. You were yourselves before, and _now_ you are enchanted."

"My brain is in a whirl," said Queen Miranda. "Are we ourselves now, or
were we ourselves before?"

"By crackey," said Toby, "it's too much for me, and I give it up.
Anyway, what we want to know is, can you cure the Chevalier?"

"I can, and I will," said the old man. "There's nothing the matter with
him, except that he isn't himself. As soon as he's himself again, he'll
be well. He was given the chance once