Betty’s face was a study in perplexity.
“Yes—but how?” she stammered. “I don’t understand....”
Instead of explaining, Godmother Strangeways got up, and opened the door of a cabinet that stood between two narrow square-paned windows, took something from a shelf and, returning, dropped it into her godchild’s hand.
Betty gazed at the little object. “It’s a ring,” she began. “But a very old one, isn’t it? It’s so dark and stained.”
“It’s a very old one,” said Godmother. “It’s a ring once worn by a young Roman nobleman. Put it on to your third finger.”
Betty obeyed. “Now say these words after me.” She began to chant very slowly and distinctly certain words which, though she did not understand them, her godchild knew to be Latin.
Feeling as though she were in a dream, Betty began to repeat them after her, looking meanwhile at the clock on the mantelpiece which pointed to three o’clock.
Outside in the street, a boy was calling “Evening Paper! Evening paper!”
His voice was still ringing in her ears when the white-panelled room vanished, and she found herself standing in the sunshine on the bank of a river....