“Dan!” cried Lion.
“But the Watch, the Petal Watch—it’s closing!” answered the clown in despair.
“Goodness, so it is,” echoed the Lady. “But you shall not miss the story, for I will come again on the morrow. With the twilight I’ll come—until then fare you well.”
And with that she was gone like a flash through the dusk, while the animals all hurried back to their places, each wondering what it was they were to hear the next day of the very wise monkey named Vargu.
CHAPTER VIII
IN WHICH THE PRETTY LADY CONTINUES HER STORY
Hidden away in the folds of that mantle called twilight which, as every one knows, is laid over the earth with every setting of the sun, is a wee little hour that is fairly made for the telling of stories. And to those of Spangleland who know how to find it—though none save they who possess the Petal Watch will ever learn how—there is a very minute which marks the beginning of half-past twilight. And that is the best time of all.
With its coming the blue of the tent-poles seems to grow a shade softer and the great, rope-fretted roof and the lazy, breeze-wafted walls melt from white into gray. It is then that the red and gold cages slyly gleam from their places in the circle they form, and, most wonderful of all, then that every door opens, thanks to good Too-Bo-Tan.
And on this particular evening of which you are to hear, you may be sure that the funny old clown in the polka-dot suit—that’s Diggeldy Dan—and the chattering brown fellow with the twinkling brown eyes—Monkey, of course—had loosed all the animals much faster than ever before. The reason? You’ve guessed it—the promised story from the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes.
Hardly had the animals taken their places, when there came the sound of hoof-beats mingling with the laugh that was so like to tinkle bells, and into the circle galloped the White-White Horse, bearing the one for whom they all waited.
“A merry twilight!” she cried, as the two came to a stop in front of the group.