aid the glorious leader, when the men in
Cromwellian steel-caps had said a few low eager words. And he took off
his helmet, because he could not see properly with it on. He had a kind
face, and long fair hair. "Have no fear; thou shalt take no scathe," he
said.

Robert was glad of that. He wondered what "scathe" was, and if it was
nastier than the medicine which he had to take sometimes.

"Unfold thy tale without alarm," said the leader kindly. "Whence comest
thou, and what is thine intent?"

"My what?" said Robert.

"What seekest thou to accomplish? What is thine errand, that thou
wanderest here alone among these rough men-at-arms? Poor child, thy
mother's heart aches for thee e'en now, I'll warrant me."

"I don't think so," said Robert; "you see, she doesn't know I'm out."

[Illustration: He wiped away a manly tear]

The leader wiped away a manly tear, exactly as a leader in a historical
romance would have done, and said--

"Fear not to speak the truth, my child; thou hast nought to fear from
Wulfric de Talbot."

Robert had a wild feeling that this glorious leader of the besieging
party--being himself part of a wish--would be able to understand better
than Martha, or the gipsies, or the policeman in Rochester, or the
clergyman of yesterday, the true tale of the wishes and the Psammead.
The only difficulty was that he knew he could never remember enough
"quothas" and "beshrew me's," and things like that, to make his talk
sound like the talk of a boy in a historical romance. However, he began
boldly enough, with a sentence straight out of _Ralph de Courcy; or, The
Boy Crusader_. He said--

"Grammercy for thy courtesy, fair sir knight. The fact is, it's like
this--and I hope you're not in a hurry, because the story's rather a
breather. Father and mother are away, and when we went down playing in
the sand-pits we found a Psammead."

"I cry thee mercy! A Sammyadd?" said the knight.

"Yes, a sort of--of fairy, or enchanter--yes, that's it, an enchanter;
and he said we could have a wish every day, and we wished first to be
beautiful."

"Thy wish was scarce granted," muttered one of the men-at-arms, looking
at Robert, who went on as if he had not heard, though he thought the
remark very rude indeed.

"And then we wished for money--treasure, you know; but we couldn't spend
it. And yesterday we wished for wings, and we got them, and we had a
ripping time to begin with"--

"Thy speech is strange and uncouth,"