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Godmother shook her head. “It hasn’t stopped. Time is almost as magic a thing as——”

“As all we’ve seen,” put in Betty eagerly. “Oh, Godmother, it has been wonderful! But no one will ever believe it.”

“Don’t try to make them,” replied Godmother. “You’ll find it quite easy not to,” she added with her queer little smile. Then as the bell rang, “Here comes your maid to fetch you.”

“Oh, but this isn’t the end of the magic? You’ll let me come again? You’ll let me see how London goes on?” Betty implored.

“To-morrow I’m going to take you to a Museum,” returned the old lady. “I don’t think you’ll find it dull,” she said comfortingly, as Betty’s face fell. “I shall fetch you at three o’clock, and mind you don’t keep me waiting.”

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Punctually at three o’clock next day, Godmother’s pretty little car pulled up at the door of Betty’s home in Chelsea, and a few minutes later she was driving away with her.

“Well!” began Godmother, as she observed a curious expression upon the face of her godchild, “did you try explaining to people all you saw yesterday?”