_Father Time_
GEORGE dreamed that night as he had never dreamed before. It was a curious
dream, full of dragons, giants, fairies, aeroplanes, motor-cars, all mixed
up together. But all the time he half remembered where he was and kept
thinking: "I am in bed in the little house that belongs to George, and it
must be a dream-house. If it is, then I am dreaming inside a dream."
Every time he thought this he woke up--or seemed to wake up--and then fell
asleep again. Alexander dreamed about large bones and crackly biscuits.
That was the kind of dream he liked best.
Morning came--but perhaps there had never been any night--and George
really awoke, sat up, and rubbed his eyes. The sun was shining through the
window, and Alexander had gone.
He washed his face and hands and went downstairs. The table was laid for
breakfast with porridge and cream--a jug full!--eggs and bacon, toast,
rolls hot from the oven, fresh butter, jam, and marmalade.
The Mr George who lived in this house _was_ a nice person to know. George
felt that he would like to stay here for quite a long time if he could
only send a message to Mother and let her know where he was.
He sat down feeling quite delighted at having breakfast all by himself,
and just as he was drinking his second cup of tea the door opened and in
came Alexander.
"Oh, where have you been?" cried George. "Don't you want any breakfast?"
"_Wuff! Wuff!_" replied Alexander, which meant: "Don't ask me silly
questions like that, but give me something to eat."
He ate a good breakfast and drank a whole saucerful of milk, which he
hardly ever got at home.
After breakfast George thought it was time to start again. He had quite
forgotten about going home now. It seemed quite the right thing to put on
his cap and set off again to--where, goodness only knows!
Alexander stood waiting by the door, and George said aloud: "Thank you,
Mr George, for your kindness," just to show that he hadn't forgotten his
manners; then they went out into the bright sunshine.
George's House stood in a lovely little spot. Birds called to one another
from the branches of the high trees; rabbits scuttled in and out of their
holes, played hide-and-seek, and even flopped just under Alexander's nose.
George took a deep breath: "Oh, I am enjoying myself," he cried. "Aren't
you, Alexander?"
"Ra-ther!" barked Alexander, and ran round and round chasing his tail
while all the rabbits sat and watched him. It certainly did seem as if he
had spoken that time--but no!--it wasn't possible!
Off they went again. There were sure to be more adventures if one only
kept on and on to the end of the wood. Little paths ran in all directions,
and each one looked greener and nicer than the other.
"I expect they all go to the same place in the end," said George, and so,
without waiting for a moment, he ran as hard as he could down the nearest
at hand. It twisted and turned in all directions; sometimes it seemed as
if it were turning round and coming all the way back again. At last it
gave quite a little jump and went straight ahead.
They walked and ran, and ran and walked by turns; it grew lighter and
lighter until they could see the sun shining on the--yes, it was!--the sea.
Now, if there is one place which is jollier than all the others it is
the seashore on a sunny day. There is always paddling, bathing, digging,
making castles and lakes; besides, the fun of getting caught by a splashy
wave is worth while getting wet twice over.
Hurrah for the sea! You could almost hear it calling, for in the
summer-time all the little boy-waves love to play with their friends the
human boys. Dogs are welcome too if they will swim in after sticks.
In another moment George and Alexander were out of the wood and on the
seashore. Such miles of hard yellow sand as far as one could see, and a
sea as blue, or even bluer than the sky.
Off came George's clothes, and in he splashed with Alexander after him.
The water was as warm as toast, and made him feel like having five minutes
more every time he thought of coming out.
George dried himself in the sun and put on his clothes, while Alexander
rolled about in the sand and shook himself until he looked like a great
mop with all its hair on end. But after a bathe there are usually
biscuits, and there were certainly none here.
"I expect we shall find some," said George. "If we don't, we must go back
to George's House and have dinner."
He turned to walk up the beach toward the long sand-hills which ran in a
line along the shore, and there, sitting not far off him, he saw an old
man. This old man had white hair, not very much of it, and a long beard
which flowed down to his knees. He was holding something in his hand;
George could not see what it was.
"Perhaps he's lost his way. Come on, Alexander; we'll go and ask him,"
said George.
He was quite a nice old man, and smiled such a kind smile when George
took off his cap politely and said: "Good-morning."
"Good-morning, little George," he answered.
"I say, do you know my name?" asked George in surprise. "Oh, are you the
Mr George who lives in that little house in the wood, because I slept
there. This is Alexander, my dog; he was there with me. He's a very
well-behaved dog unless he sees a cat or a rabbit, and then it's an awful
bother to get him back. Have you got a dog? And what is that thing you
have in your hand? Oh, I forgot I was never to ask more than one question
at a time. I am very sorry I was rude."
The old man smiled again. "No, my name is not George. The little house
belongs to--well, you will find that out by and by. I haven't a dog of my
own, but I know all about dogs. This is an hour-glass. It tells the time.
You see the sand trickling down from one glass into the other. When all
the sand has trickled through I turn the glass over, and it begins all
over again."
"Oh, I say, how jolly!" cried George. "May I look? I've seen an hour-glass
in a picture-book I have at home, but this is a real one, isn't it?"
"Quite real," answered the old man; "as real as you are, little George."
George gazed at the hour-glass for some time; then suddenly he remembered
something. "Why, I know who is holding the hour-glass in the picture," he
said. "It's Father Time.... Oh, you look just like him! Are you Father
Time, please?"
"Well, that is what people call me," said Father Time, stroking his long
beard and looking at George with a queer look, as if he were trying to see
right inside him.
"Then you can _really_ fly?" asked George. "Nurse always says that 'Time
flies.' I don't see your wings ... but perhaps you don't need any," he
added politely.
Father Time smiled very kindly, and spoke in a very soft, gentle voice:
"Yes, I fly, and I have wings, though you cannot see them. The young
people think that I fly far too slowly, and when they are grown up they
think I fly too quickly.... But the sand in my hour-glass is always
falling, falling, never quickly, never slowly."
"And do you have to look after all the clocks in the world?" asked George.
"There are ever so many. We've got six in our house, and Father and
Mother have got watches as well."
"Yes," replied Father Time. "It gives me a great deal of work, but if it
were not for me you wouldn't have any clocks and watches."
"Oh, that would be queer!" exclaimed George. "We should never know if it
was time to go to bed or time to get up. Nurse wouldn't like that, for she
loves everything to be 'on the tick,' she says. 'A stitch in time saves
nine' is what she is always telling me."
"A great many people say that," answered Father Time. "If everybody
remembered it, my old cloak wouldn't be as ragged as it is," and he showed
George a number of holes and tears which certainly looked as if they
needed mending.
Alexander whined and then barked: "Come on, don't talk so much, please!"
"Down, Alexander!" cried George. "We're going in a minute. Oh, please, can
you tell me the way to----" And then he stopped, for he really didn't know
where he wanted to go to.
"You had better go up the road over there," said Father Time, pointing.
"You will find a finger-post which will show you the way. You can't miss
it; it is quite easy to find. Good-bye!"
"Oh, wait a minute!" cried George, for old Time was already some way off.
He turned and waved his hand.
"Time waits for no man!" he said. "Follow your fortune, little George!"
"He _is_ a funny old man," thought George. "Follow my fortune? Whatever
does he mean?"
Far, far off, he heard the sweet music once again. It sounded more
inviting than ever. "It's like the story of Dick Whittington, only he had
a cat and not a dog. I believe the music is saying: 'Follow your fortune,
your fortune, oh, follow!' Come and look for the finger-post, Alexander!"
And he ran up the sands toward the road.
* * * * *
Puck flew into the wood. "He's here!" he cried.
The fairies danced round him in delight. "Hurrah!" they cried. "Hurrah!"
sounds different altogether and much nicer in their language. "Tell us all
about it!"
So Puck sat down and told them all about George's adventures right from
the beginning. If you have not remembered everything you must turn back
and read it all again for yourself.
"_Ker-ek!_" croaked the old frog. "But what's all this about Father Time?
How do you know he met Time. I don't believe it!" and then he nearly fell
backward in surprise, for there stood the old man in front of him.
"Now do you believe?" said Puck's voice, and the fairies burst out
laughing, for it was Puck himself all the time!
When the old frog had stopped coughing Father Time had disappeared, and
Puck sat there smiling.
"What a clever Puck I am!" he cried, turning head over heels.
[Illustration]
TIME FLIES
TIME flies
On wings of light.
He flies by day.
He flies by night.
Time flies,
And ne'er doth he
Stay still and rest
For you and me.
Time flies.
The clock strikes--hark!
The day has gone,
And now 'tis dark.
Time flies.
You go to bed.
'Tis day once more,
And night has fled.
Time flies.
You're young to-day.
Time touches you--
You're old and grey.
[Illustration]