Moonchild

of mine in the next few weeks; and I should like you to have a standard of comparison. Maybe you'll want to choose one day!" "I'm afraid I, too, like danger and excitement!" cried Lisa. "I'm afraid you do! However, since Brother Cyril asks it, the Way of the Tao shall be trodden so far as this is possible: What would Brother Cyril do?" "I should take the Magic Sword, make the appropriate symbols, and invoke the Names Divine appurtenant thereto: the Thing, shrivelled and blasted, would go back to those that sent it, screaming in agony, cursing at the gods, ready to turn even on its employers, that they might wail with it in torment." "One of the best numbers on the programme," said Simon Iff. "Now see the other way!" "Yes: if your way is better than that!" cried the girl, her eyes gleaming. "It isn't my way," said the mystic, with a sudden inflection of solemnity. His voice rose in a low monotonous chant as he quoted from "The Book of the Heart girt with the Serpent." "I, and Me, and Mine were sitting with lutes in [65] the market-place of the great city, the city of the violets and the roses. "The night fell, and the music of the lutes was stilled. "The tempest arose, and the music of the lutes was stilled. The hour passed, and the music of the lutes was stilled. "But Thou art Eternity and Space; Thou art Matter and Motion; and Thou art the Negation of all these things. For there is no symbol of Thee." The listeners were thrilled to the marrow of their bones. But the old man merely gathered a handful of dittany leaves from the chased golden box where they were kept, and led the way to the garden. It was very dark; nothing could be distinguished but the outlines of the shrubs and the line of the fence beyond. "Do you see the Thing?" said Iff. Lisa strained her eyes. "You mustn't look for anything very definite," said the mystic. "It seems as if the darkness were somehow different in that corner," said Lisa at last, pointing. "A sort of reddish tinge to the murk." "Oh dear me! if you will use words hike 'murk'! I'm afraid you're all on Cyril's side! Look now! " And he put his hand on her head. With the other he offered her the dittany. "Chew one of these leaves!" he said. She took one of the silver-grey heaves, with its delicate snow-bloom, between her teeth.