“Gracious! We must be near where the Equator was,” he exclaimed. “It looks like a conservatory outdoors down there.”
“It’s not,” said Nimbus. “It’s the grandstand. That’s where the procession of the Equine Oxen was to be held.”
“Of course it won’t be held now?” timidly suggested Billy.
“It will, if I have anything to do with it. Just because we never did have a procession without an Equator is no reason we shouldn’t have one. Besides, now that there’s no Equator to watch, unless they parade, those good-for-nothing creatures won’t earn their cuds.”
The car by this time was grating on a hillside, and soon brought up between a couple of slender palm trees.
“I’ve been expecting you,” said a voice—a sad voice that seemed to come from directly above the car.
Looking out of the car window, Billy saw a bright light among the branches of the tree—a light that surrounded like a halo the figure of a very pretty girl.
“Why,” said Nimbus briskly, lifting his hat, “it’s the Evening Star.”
“Yes,” said the Evening Star, “it is I. I came to complain about the Equine Ox. He’s very disconsolate, and he’s singing continually. I wish you’d stop him.”
Billy was very much surprised to find the Evening Star all alone. He was about to ask Nimbus why it was when she said: