“In the ordinary way they grow up exactly as we do here,” said Mailey. “But if they have a special bit of work for which a child is needed, then as a child they remain. It’s a sort of arrested development.”
“That’s me. ‘Rested envelopment,’” said the voice proudly. “I learn good English when big man here.”
They all laughed. It was the most genial, free-and-easy association possible. Malone heard Enid’s voice whispering in his ear.
“Pinch me from time to time, Edward—just to make me sure that I am not in a dream.”
“I have to pinch myself, too.”
“What about your song, Wee One?” asked Bolsover.
“Oh, yes, indeeda! Wee One sing to you.” She began some simple song, but faded away in a squeak, while the trumpet clattered on to the table.
“Ah, power run down!” said Mailey. “I think a little more music will set us right. ‘Lead Kindly Light,’ Smiley.”
They sang the beautiful hymn together. As the verse closed an amazing thing happened—amazing, at least, to the novices, though it called for no remark from the circle.
The trumpet still shone upon the table, but two voices, those apparently of a man and a woman broke out in the air above them and joined very tunefully in the singing. The hymn died away and all was silence and tense expectancy once more.