But, my father, it is so very lonely without mother," protested the
boy.

The Chemist smiled gently. "Afraid, little son, to stay with Oteo?"

"He's not afraid," said the Very Young Man stoutly.

The little boy looked from one to the other of them a moment silently.
Then, calling Oteo's name, he ran across the roof and down into the
house.

"Five years ago," said the Chemist, as the child disappeared, "there was
hardly such an emotion in this world as fear or hate or anger. Now the
pendulum is swinging to the other extreme. I suppose that's natural,
but----" He ended with a sigh, and, breaking his train of thought, rose
to his feet. "Shall we start?"

Lylda's father greeted them gravely, with a dignity, and yet obvious
cordiality that was quite in accord with his appearance. He was a man
over sixty. His still luxuriant white hair fell to his shoulders. His
face was hairless, for in this land all men's faces were as devoid of
hair as those of the women. He was dressed in a long, flowing robe
similar to those his visitors were wearing.

"Because--you come--I am glad," he said with a smile, as he shook hands
in their own manner. He spoke slowly, with frequent pauses, as though
carefully picking his words. "But--an old man--I know not the language
of you."

He led them into a room that evidently was his study, for in it they saw
many strange instruments, and on a table a number of loosely bound
sheets of parchment that were his books. They took the seats he offered
and looked around them curiously.

"There is the clock we spoke of," said the Chemist, indicating one of
the larger instruments that stood on a pedestal in a corner of the room.
"Reoh will explain it to you."

Their host addressed the Chemist. "From Oteo I hear--the news to-day is
bad?" he asked with evident concern.

"I am afraid it is," the Chemist answered seriously.

"And Lylda?"

The Chemist recounted briefly the events of the day. "We can only wait
until Lylda returns," he finished. "To-morrow we will talk with the
king."

"Bad it is," said the old man slowly; "very bad. But--we shall see----"

The Very Young Man had risen to his feet and was standing beside the
clock.

"How does it work?" he asked. "What time is it now?"

Reoh appealed to his son-in-law. "To tell of it--the words I know not."

The Chemist smiled. "You are too modest, my father. But I will help you
out, if you insist." He turned to the others, who were gathered around