ld toad, Seraph!" put in Angel hastily,
feeling, as I did, that the manner of the toad's demise was best left to
conjecture. "We want to hear about the most beautiful thing in the world.
Please tell it, Bishop!"

"Well--since you corner me," said the Bishop, his eyes on the larkspur, "I
should say it is the wing of that pale blue butterfly, hovering above those
deep blue flowers."

Angel's face fell. "Oh, I didn't mean a little thing like that," he said.
"I meant a 'normous, wonderful thing. Something that you couldn't _ever_
forget."

"Well--if you will have it," said the Bishop, "come close and I'll
whisper." Instantly three heads hedged him in, and he said in a sonorous
undertone--"_It's the Dawn._"

"The Dawn!" We three repeated the magic words on the same note of secrecy.
"But what is it like? How can we get to it? Is it like the sunset?"

"I won't explain a bit of it," he replied. "You've got to seek it out for
yourselves. It's a pity, though, you can't see it first in the country."

"Must we get up in the dark?"

"Yes. I think your tallest attic window faces the east. You must steal up
there while it's still grey daylight. Have the windows open so that you can
hear and smell, as well as see it. But I'm afraid the dear Seraph's too
little."

"Not me," asserted The Seraph, stoutly. "I'm stwong as two ephelants."

"You mustn't be frightened when you hear its wings," said the Bishop, "nor
be abashed at the splendour of it, for it was designed for just such little
fellows as you. You will come and tell me then what happens, won't you? I
shall probably never waken early enough to see it again."...

II

Though we played games after this, and the Bishop made a very satisfactory
lion prowling about in a jungle of wicker chairs and table legs, we none of
us quite lost sight of the adventure in store for us. Somewhere in the back
of our heads lurked the thought of the Dawn with its suggestion of splendid
mystery.

We were no sooner at home again than we set about discussing ways and
means.

"The chief thing," said Angel, "is to waken about four. We have no alarm
clock, so I s'pose we'll just have to take turns in keeping watch all
night. The hall clock strikes, so we can watch hour about."

"I'll take first watch!" put in The Seraph, eagerly.

"You'll take just what's given to you, and no questions, young man," said
Angel, out of the side of his mouth, and The Seraph subsided, crushed.

Came bedtime at