“It’s this way!” he began, after glancing over his shoulder to make sure his Father couldn’t hear. “For hundreds of years this has been the Possible World, because it was possible for everyone in it to be happy. But there came a time when an evil influence crept into the land and made it Impossible. It was through this evil Thing that my Father, who was one of the King’s Advisers, lost his place at Court. The whole country was under a cloud. Then, Old Nancy—she lives in the cottage yonder”—he pointed to the little red-roofed cottage with the smoke curling from the chimney, on the opposite side of the road—“Old Nancy, she discovered a spell, and she saved us—she banished the evil Thing to the Impossible World and our world became Possible again. Lately, my Father has been afflicted with dreams that he says always come to him before trouble overtakes the country, and he fears by some mishap that the country may become Impossible again.”
“What does he dream of?” inquired Molly.
“Lemons,” said the young man; “and do what I can I cannot shake him out of the gloom into which he has fallen.... It’s strange,” the young man continued, “but poor old Father seems the only person who did not cheer up when the World became Possible again. It was a nasty shock for him, being banished from Court; and although they’ve taken him back and given him another post—I suppose he’s getting old. And then those dreams——” Glan’s face became serious for a moment. “However, they mean nothing, I’m sure. And now you are here you’d like to see our Possible Country, wouldn’t you? I’m afraid as you are from the Impossible World you’ll have to get a Pass before you can come into the City—but that’ll be all right. You must come and have tea with us. I opened a little baker’s and pastry-cook’s business when Father lost his place at Court, and I still keep it up—fascinating work, making puff pastry and currant buns. I run a special line in gooseberry-jam puffs. I used to do a lovely line in lemon cheese-cakes, but I’ve had to leave them off since Father’s had those dreams. He can’t bear to be reminded——” He stopped, a little out of breath.
“We’d love to come up to the City; where can we get a Pass?” said Molly.
“But, I say, what about that thing we were following,” broke in Jack, suddenly remembering what it was they had followed through the tree; the interest of meeting their new acquaintances had made the children forget for a few minutes. “We’d forgotten, hadn’t we, Molly? We were really following a Pumpkin, you know,” he said, turning to the young man.
“A what!” and the young man’s voice rose to a shriek, and his eyes grew round.
“A Pumpkin,” faltered Jack, a little dismayed, “A Grey Pumpkin.”
“Father! Father! It’s come back,” shouted the young man, wheeling round excitedly.
“Come back!” repeated the old man, rising to his feet and stumbling toward them. “Come back! What has come back? Not the—not——”