ossessing them, and was ready to
burst into tears at their loss, when out of the fire they were
pulled again, and it was seen that the flames had not injured or
tarnished them in the least. Once more Martin put out his arms and
this time he was allowed to take those beautiful clothes, and then
just as he clasped them to him with a cry of delight he woke!

His head was lying on his new mother's arm, and she was awake
watching him.

"O, mother, what a nice dream I had! O such pretty clothes--why did
I wake so soon?"

She laughed and touched his arms, showing him that they were still
clasping that beautiful suit of clothes to his breast--the very
clothes of his wonderful dream!

CHAPTER XIII

THE GREAT BLUE WATER

There was not in all that land, nor perhaps in all the wide world, a
happier little boy than Martin, when after waking from his sleep and
dream he dressed himself for the first time in that new suit, and
went out from the cave into the morning sunlight. He then felt the
comfort of such clothes, for they were softer than the finest,
softest down or silk to his skin, and kept him warm when it was cold,
and cool when it was hot, and dry when it rained on him, and the
earth could not soil them, nor the thorns tear them; and above
everything they were the most beautiful clothes ever seen. Their
colour was a deep moss green, or so it looked at a little distance,
or when seen in the shade, but in the sunshine it sparkled as if
small, shining, many-coloured beads had been sewn in the cloth; only
there were no beads; it was only the shining threads that made it
sparkle so, like clean sand in the sun. When you looked closely at
the cloth, you could see the lovely pattern woven in it--small leaf
and flower, the leaves like moss leaves, and the flowers like the
pimpernel, but not half so big, and they were yellow and red and
blue and violet in colour.

But there were many, many things besides the lovely clothes to make
him contented and happy. First, the beautiful woman of the hills who
loved and cherished him and made him call her by the sweet name of
"mother" so many times every day that he well nigh forgot she was
not his real mother. Then there was the great stony hill-side on
which he now lived for a playground, where he could wander all day
among the rocks, overgrown with creepers and strange sweet-smelling
flowers he had never seen on the plain below. The birds and
butterflies he saw there were diff