It was a hard task that she had set him, and when at last he left her, he went slowly up the stairs.
The children had strung the Midnight Camels across the room, the purple, patient creatures that Jean had made.
"The round rug is an oasis," Teddy explained, "and the jonquil is a palm—and we are going to save the dates and figs from our lunch."
"I want my lunch," Margaret-Mary complained.
Derry looked at his watch. It was after twelve. The servants were all demoralized. "See here," he said, "you sit still for a moment, and I'll go down for your tray."
He brought it up himself, presently, bread and milk and fruit.
They sat on the oasis and ate, with the patient purple camels grouped in the shade of the jonquil palm.
Then Derry asked, "Shall I tell you the story of How the Purple Camels Came to Paradise?"
"Yes," they said, and he gathered little Margaret-Mary into his arms, and Teddy lay flat on the floor and looked up at him, while Derry made his difficult way towards the thing he had to tell.
"You see, the purple camels belonged to the Three Wise Men, the ones who journeyed, after the Star—do you remember? And found the little baby who was the Christ? And because the purple camels had followed the Star, the good Lord said to them, 'Some day you shall journey towards Paradise, and there you shall see the shining souls that dwell in happiness.'"