The sun was like a golden boat afloat upon a blue sky speckled with
white waves when they came out at the source, scratched and tattered and
soaked to the waist. They were still shouting with glee.
Christie had lost her ribbon, and Barbie had a cut on her ankle, and
Wilf had bumped his head, and Audrey's plait was all astray, and a
fragment of bramble, caught in the web of her hair, still hung at her
neck; and Dick's shirt was torn at the shoulder. But Sylvia came out as
whole as she went in.
The first thing they saw when they scrambled up the bank was Sir John,
sitting under an oak-tree rubbing his shield. He had walked along the
bank by the meadow and wood through which the brook ran, and here he
awaited their coming.
“Well, children,” said he, with his gentle smile, “has none of you
perished?”
“Neither man, woman, nor child, sir,” said Dick.
“It was because of Dick,” said Sylvia. “He's the cunningest mariner I
ever knew. He overcame all the dangers and protected the others.”
“It was because of Sylvia,” said Dick. “She's the kindliest water-sprite
that ever guarded poor mortals in peril. She wouldn't let harm touch us.
Though, to be sure, Mother'll have to put a patch on my shirt, all along
of the sharks.”
“And the sirens stole my ribbon!” said Christie eagerly.
“And the dragons bit my foot!” said Barbie proudly.
“And the giants bumped my head!” muttered Wilf darkly.
“And the witches caught me by the hair!” said Audrey excitedly.
“And Emily laid an egg,” said Sylvia. “And Dick saved them all, and the
egg too.”
“Hard-boiled egg looks nice on a salad,” said Dick, “cut into quarters
like white-and-gold canoes a-sail on a green lettuce sea, did we but
know where to boil it.”
“The Hermit of Hardham will boil it,” said Sylvia, “for he lives on eggs
and onions.”
“Where does the Hermit dwell?” asked Sir John.
“In a curl of the river,” said Sylvia.
“Then his way lies our way,” said the Knight. “Come, children.”
And he went ahead where Sylvia pointed; and she, turning him with a
touch now to the left, now to the right, tripped at his heels, and Wilf
toddled at hers, with Christie and Barbie in line like follow-my-leader,
Dick and Audrey coming abreast; and Rufus, wet and dejected, and Mike,
wet and in ecstasy, and Paul, wet and phlegmatic, and Emily, wet and in
a perfect panic of triumph, brought up the rear.
“Hasn't your grandfather got a grand shield?” said Sylvia over her
shoulder.
The children laughed, and Dick answered: “He has neither child nor
grandchild, but his shield is as bright as his own dreams. Why, there
isn't a man in the world with so splendid a shield, is there?” And he
smiled at Audrey, but she looked sorrowfully after her Knight, and then
she looked at Dick, and shook her head.