in this case. But we 're getting on in our journey.
Yes, indeed, we seem to be really getting on."

"Why, I should hope so!" returned Betty. "It seems to me I never flew
so fast in all my life before and for such a long time. If we were n't
getting on, I think I should be discouraged. We seem to be almost
running a race, we go so quickly."

"We are running a race," observed Mr. Bombus.

Betty opened her eyes wide and said: "Why, _I_ did n't know it. When
did we begin?"

"When we started, Child. Pray, don't be stupid!" replied her friend, a
little severely.

"But with whom are we running it?" queried Betty.

"With Time," whispered Mr. Bombus, confidentially. "One always has to
beat him before one can get to By-and-by. And then it depends on one's
self whether one likes it or not after one gets there."

But even as he spoke Betty seemed to feel herself hurried along more
rapidly than ever, as if she were making a final effort to outstrip
some one; and then she was brought to so sudden a standstill that she
had to do her best to keep from falling forward, and was still quite
dizzy with her effort when she heard a panting voice say, "That last
rush quite took away my breath!" and found herself being addressed by
Mr. Bombus, who was very red in the face and gasping rather painfully,
and whom she had, for the moment, forgotten.

Betty said: "My, Mr. Bombus, how warm you are! Sit right down on the
grass and cool off before we go any farther, please."

"Oh, dear, no!" objected her companion. "That would be terribly
imprudent, with these cold autumn winds blowing so; and winter just
over there. I 'd catch my death, Child."

"Why, I 'm sure," replied Betty, "I don't know what you mean. It's as
summer as it can be. It's a hot August day, and if you can't sit
outdoors in August, I 'd like to know when you can."

"Allow me to inform you, my dear child, that it isn't August at all;
and if you had half an eye you 'd see it, let alone feel it. Do these
leaves look as if it were August?" and he pointed to a clump of trees
whose foliage shone red and yellow in the sunlight.

Betty started. "Good gracious!" she exclaimed. "How came they to
change so early?"

"It _is n't_ early," explained Mr. Bombus. "It's the last of
October,--even later,--and keeps getting more so every minute."

"But," insisted Betty, "it was August when I first saw you, a few hours
ago, and--"

"Yes, _then_ it was August," assented