"Eh, my boy, found, what?"
"The way to raise the wind. I've been in to see little Pop-Eye—you know, the Astrologer Royal."
"Xuriel? I haven't seen him since that—er—match I played with the Marshal."
"I daresay not. The Marshal saw him, though—and he hasn't been fit to be seen in public since. Well, it seems he's been pottering away at Magic all this time on the quiet—and quite lately he's come upon an old spell-book of his father's and tried some of the formulas in it. And he's turned out one little thing that's simply it. I bought it of him on the spot. I'll have it brought in here for you to see."
When it was brought it was not much to look at, being just an ordinary round table of the plainest design.
"Ah, but you wait," said Clarence. "Just say to it 'Little table, be laid.'"
"Really, my boy," protested his father, who had evidently forgotten his Grimm's Fairy Tales, "I can't bring myself to——"
"Try it, Guv'nor—and see what happens."
"Oh well, it's all nonsense—all nonsense—but—er—'Little table be laid.'"
Instantly the table was covered with a snowy linen cloth and laid with a daintily prepared meal for one person, including a small flagon of wine and a knife and even a two-pronged fork.