The policeman paused a moment, and then he said, "Well, look here. That needle ain't so far off; I'll just take you to see it, and you may see your brothers and sisters too. Call out directly if you do."
So he took them each by a hand, and trotted them along through the fog. It was an alarming journey, although the policeman was kind, and Phyllis felt sure there was no other way of getting home.
When he took them across those dreadful streets, Effie in one arm, Phyllis hanging on to his other hand, Phyllis shut her eyes in terror.
But presently they got away from this confusion into a broad paved place, with trees to be seen here and there. That was much nicer. Their kind companion told Phyllis to look out for her friends.
"There's the needle," he said, all of a sudden. Phyllis looked up, and saw a great stone column before them.
"But it's a needle I mean," Phyllis exclaimed, uncomprehendingly, "something you work with. That isn't a needle."
"Well, I don't know whether a giant ever worked with it," the policeman said, with a comical smile; "anyhow, that's what they call the needle. It's come a long way to England, and belonged to a lady called Mrs. Cleopatra. What she did with it isn't exactly known; but I reckon she didn't make her gowns with it."
Phyllis looked at it with a very great feeling of disappointment. She didn't think it looked nice at all.
"Them other things you talked of, too," said the policeman, "there's most everything to be found in London; but not quite that neither. The church comes the nighest——"
Phyllis uttered a cry of joy, and darted away: opposite her stood Donald, Jennie, and Grace.