Part 17 (1/2)

”Oh, but it doesn't disappear really,” said Chubby, who wanted to show that she knew a little geography; ”the sun is s.h.i.+ning somewhere else at this very moment, only we can't see it.”

”Rubbis.h.!.+” said the wymp, scornfully. ”Don't you believe everything you're told about the sun! Who said it didn't disappear, eh? Has any one ever gone after it to see?”

”N-no,” said Chubby, doubtfully, ”but--”

”That proves it doesn't go on s.h.i.+ning, then,” said the wymp, triumphantly. ”There's plenty of inquisitive people who'd have gone after the sun long ago, if it hadn't the sense to disappear every night.

It must have some peace, you know, if it's got to come up smiling again the next morning.”

”Do the wymps disappear every night, too?” asked Jerry.

”Of course they do,” answered the wymp. ”Don't you?”

”I didn't know we did,” said Jerry, a little bewildered. ”I thought we only went to sleep.”

”Ah, you do that first,” said the wymp. ”Then you disappear.”

”No, we don't,” said Chubby, positively. ”We shouldn't have dreams if we disappeared.”

”You certainly wouldn't have any dreams unless you did disappear,”

chuckled the wymp.

”Then what about to-night?” demanded Jerry. ”Do you mean to say we have disappeared now?”

The wymp sighed. ”Some people never will know when they're not there,”

he complained. ”But here is our comet; jump in, or else we shall be late.”

Down swooped the great s.h.i.+ning comet, and there it lay across the road, waiting for them to mount. The children climbed on to its broad glittering tail and held tightly to each other, while the wymp mounted in front of them and stood like the man at the wheel, with his hand on the comet's head; then up they flew at a terrific pace, right through the wonderful blue darkness that stretched all round them. Far above was the great land of light that lay round the moon; but the country of the stars came in between, and the stars were still so far off that they had not even begun to look like real stars.

”Afraid of the dark?” asked the wymp over his shoulder.

”Oh, no,” said Chubby. ”I am only afraid of the dark you get at home when the candle is put out. This is a nice, friendly kind of darkness, and candles wouldn't make any difference to it.”

”I don't know so much about that,” said the wymp; ”if you had the steering to do, you wouldn't mind a candle or two to help you.”

”Do you steer by the points of the compa.s.s?” asked Jerry, eagerly. Some one had given him a compa.s.s on his last birthday, and he had steered by it ever since. Indeed, he had arrived late at school several times, through steering his way by the points of the compa.s.s.

”Certainly not,” said the wymp; ”when you are sailing on a comet, you steer by the points of the comet, of course.” Just then, he gave a sharp turn to the points of the comet, and it sailed right out of the blue darkness and took them into the dim mysterious greyness of the country of the stars.

”They _are_ like real stars,” murmured Chubby, for she had begun to have serious doubts whether the stars she had painted on the kite were not wrong after all. It was very comforting to find that the stars that were whizzing past them in hundreds and thousands looked just like the stars she had been accustomed to see on Christmas trees, and had such sharp points that it would not have been at all pleasant to run against one of them by mistake. Indeed, the wymp had as much as he could do to steer through the country of the stars without coming into collision with them, although the comet did not make half so much commotion in the sky as Jerry's kite had done. But then, Jerry's kite had never been trained to be a comet, and that made all the difference.

It grew lighter and lighter as they came nearer the moon, and even the stars began to look pale in the white light that was s.h.i.+ning so close to the edge of their country. The stars were growing fewer, too, for stars naturally prefer to s.h.i.+ne in a place where they can be seen, and just here, at the edge of their country, they could hardly be seen at all.

Then the wymp gave another turn to the points of the comet, and it glided gently from the country of the stars into the pale white country of the moon.

”It's like being inside a great flame that isn't hot,” whispered Chubby.

Even the wymp had to admit that the country of the moon had something in its favour. ”For those who like light,” he allowed, ”the moon is all very well. For my part, I prefer Wympland, where there isn't any light at all. You can't say that of any other country on either side of the sun!”

”I don't want to say it,” objected Chubby; ”I am very glad there _is_ some light in my country.”

”But there isn't,” retorted the wymp. ”There's only other people's light in your country! Where would you be, if you didn't borrow bits of light from the countries of the sky, eh?”