“Orion could sail straight off in a Star-Ship,” said the Kitten.
“Of course the Star People could go anywhere,” agreed Phyllisy. “How far could they go, truly straight ahead, Dearie?”
“To the other end of Nowhere, and be no nearer the end—I should say. But they don’t go, because their Law says they are to stay in their own Starland.”
“Then they’ll be there at night,” said the Kitten.
“Where would they go?” asked Pat.
“To other Starlands,” said the Princess. And that was a surprising answer, because not one of them supposed there could be any others. “The Star People say there are,” the Princess assured them, “and I should think they ought to know.”
“But how would they know, if they never go to them?” Miss Phyllisy objected.
“Partly by seeing. For instance, there are the Far-Away Isles—two little filmy streaks of light away down in the Southern sky, that look like scraps of the Milky Way. The Star People often talk about them; and from time to time some bit of news comes trickling in about outside places, nobody knows how—vague rumors. It made a story one time, news coming that way,” she ended, looking very attentively at a leaf in her hand, and turning it over to examine the back, as if she didn’t know what was expected of her!
But the Others were immediately disposing of their leaves where they would be safe under stones, hopping and chirping like birds in a bush, to settle themselves on the smooth ledges of rock that came through the hill where it was thin on top, and were toasty warm from the sun. And the Princess watched them, smiling to herself, but not saying a word until everybody was comfortable.
“As I told you,” she began, “there are often bits of news floating about in Starland—a sort of impression of something, very vague, that comes—nobody knows how,—comets, possibly. And nobody would depend on what they said.”