on earth,” Philip wondered to himself, “did she get here? And how on earth shall I get away from her?” He had not seen the spears and the quicksands and the molten metal, and he was waiting unhappily for her to alight, and for a game of hide and seek to begin, which he was not at all anxious to play.
Even as he wondered, the Hippogriff spread wings and flew away. And Philip was left alone on the island. But what did that matter? It was much better to be alone than with that Pretenderette. And for Philip there were no white-hot metal and spears and snares of quicksand, only dewy grass and sweet flowers and trees and safety and delight.
“If only Lucy were here,” he said.
When he was quite sure that the Pretenderette was really gone, he came out and explored the island. It had on it every kind of flower and fruit that you can think of, all growing together. There were gold oranges and white orange flowers, pink apple-blossom and red apples, cherries and cherry-blossom, strawberry flowers and strawberries, all growing together, wild and sweet.
At the back of his mind Philip remembered that he had, at some time or other, heard of an island where fruit and blossoms grew together at the same time, but that was all he could remember. He passed through the lovely orchards and came to a lake. It was frozen. And he remembered that, in the island he had heard of, there was a lake ready for skating even when the flowers and fruit were on the trees. Then he came to a little summer-house built all of porcupine quills like Helen’s pen-box.
And then he knew. All these wonders were on the island that he and Helen had invented long ago—the island that she used to draw maps of.
“It’s our very own island,” he said, and a glorious feeling of being at home glowed through him, warm and delightful. “We said no one else might come here! That’s why the Pretenderette couldn’t land. And why they call it the Island-where-you-mayn’t-go. I’ll find the bun tree and have something to eat, and then I’ll go to the boat-house and get out the Lightning Loose and go back for Lucy. I do wish I could bring her here. But of course I can’t without asking Helen.”
The Lightning Loose was the magic yacht Helen had invented for the island.
He soon found a bush whose fruit was buns, and a jam-tart tree grew near it. You have no idea how nice jam tarts can taste till you have gathered them yourself, fresh and sticky, from the tree. They are as sticky as horse-chestnut buds, and much nicer to eat.
As he went towards the boat-house he grew happier and happier, recognising, one after the other, all the places he and Helen had planned and marked on the map. He passed by the marble and gold house with King’s Palace painted on the door. He longed to explore it: but the thought of Lucy drove him on. As he went down a narrow leafy woodland path towards the boat-house, he passed the door of the dear little thatched cottage (labelled Queen’s Palace) which was the house Helen had insisted that she liked best for her very own.
“How pretty it is; I wish Helen was here,” he said; “she helped to make it. I should never have thought of it without her. She ought to be here,” he said. With that he felt very lonely, all of a sudden, and very sad. And as he went on, wondering whether in all this magic world there might not somehow be some magic strong enough to bring Helen there to see the island that was their very own, and to give her consent to his bringing Lucy to it, he turned a corner in the woodland path, and walked straight into the arms of—Helen.
CHAPTER IX
ON THE “LIGHTNING LOOSE”
“But how did you get here?” said Philip in Helen’s arms on the island.
“I just walked out at the other side of a dream,” she said; “how could I not come, when the door was open and you wanted me so?”
And Philip just said, “Oh, Helen!” He could not find any other words, but Helen understood. She always did.
“Come,” she said, “shall we go to your Palace or mine? I want my supper, and we’ll have our own little blue-and-white tea-set. Yes, I know you’ve had your supper, but it’ll be fun getting mine, and perhaps you’ll be hungry again before we’ve got it.”
They went to the thatched cottage that was Helen’s palace, because Philip had had almost as much of large buildings as he wanted for a little while. The cottage had a wide chimney and an open hearth; and they sat on the hearth and made toast, and Philip almost forgot that he had ever had any adventures and that the toast was being made on a hearth whose blue wood-smoke curled up among the enchanting tree-tops of a magic island.
And before they went to bed he had told her all about everything.
“Oh, I am so glad you came!” he said over and over again; “it is so easy to tell you here, with all the magic going on. I don’t think I ever could have told you at the Grange with the servants all about, and the—I mean Mr. Graham, and all the things as not magic as they could possibly be. Oh, Helen! where is Mr. Graham; won’t he hate your coming away from him?”
“He’s gone through a dream door too,” she said, “to see Lucy. Only he doesn’t know he’s really gone. He’ll think it’s a dream, and he’ll tell me about it when we both wake up.”
“When did you go to sleep?” said Philip.
“At Brussels. That telegram hasn’t come yet.”
“I don’t understand about time,” said Philip firmly, “and I never shall. I say, Helen, I was just looking for the Lightning Loose, to go off in her on a voyage of discovery and find Lucy.”
“I don’t think you need,” she said; “I met a parrot on the island just before I met you and it was saying poetry to itself.”
“It would be,” said Philip, “if it was alive. I’m glad it is alive, though. What was it saying?”
“It was something like this,” she said, putting a log of wood on the fire:
“Philip and Helen
Have the island to dwell in,
Hooray.
They said of the island,
“It’s your land and my land!”
Hooray. Hooray. Hooray.
“And till the ark
Comes out of the dark
There those two may stay
For a happy while, and
Enjoy their island
Until the Giving Day.
Hooray.
“And then they will hear the giving voice,
They will hear and obey,
And when people come
Who need a home,
They’ll give the island away.
Hooray.
“The island with flower
And fruit and bower,
Forest
