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As they turned slowly into the front gate, and walked toward the house, Arthur drew a long breath and said: “Cynthia, that is the very most beautiful adventure I ever heard of. It’s beautifuller even than the stories my own mamma used to tell, and I’ve got this lovely book to show that it is all true.”

Poor Arthur was not allowed to enjoy the possession of his book very long, for his Aunt Nancy, who had been alarmed at the children’s disappearance, and now gave them only bread and water for their dinner, took it from him, and laid it on a high shelf, saying that it was altogether too handsome a book for a little boy to have.

Arthur begged, and pleaded with tears in his eyes, that he might be allowed to keep his book, claiming justly that it was his very own, and had been given to him to do as he pleased with; but all to no purpose. His Aunt Nancy only said that she would give it to him when the proper time came; and then, adding that she was too busy now to be bothered with him, she bade him get out of the house, and not let her see him again before sundown.