"Yaller hair and gray eyes," said Gillman. "And me a bachelor."
"It was hopeless," said Martin.
"It were," said Old Gillman. "And it were the end o' my peace of life. She looks me straight in the eye and she says, Juniper's my name, but I'm June to them as loves me. And June I'll be to you. For I have traveled his rounds wi' this Carrier for a week, and sat behind his curtain while he told men my wishes. And you be the only one of them all as is willing to do a difficult thing for an idle whim, if what is the heart's desire can ever be idle. So I will sit behind the curtain no longer, and if you will let me I will follow you to the ends of Sussex till the Murray River be found, or we be dead.' And I says Jump, lass!' and down she jumps and puts up her mouth." Gillman filled his mug.
Martin filled his. "Well," said he, "a man must take his bull by the horns. And did you ever succeed in finding the Murray River?"
"Wi' a child's help. It can only be found by a child's help. Tis the child's river of all Sussex. Any child can help you to it."
"Yes," said Martin, "and all children know it."
Old Gillman put down his mug. "Do YOU know it, boy?"
"I live by it," said Martin Pippin, "when I live anywhere."
"Do children play in it still?" asked Gillman.
"None but children," said Martin Pippin. "And above all the child which boys and girls are always rediscovering in each other's hearts, even when they've turned gray in other folks' sight. And at the end of it is a mystery."