“Where is Christie?” came the voice of Mr. Malakite from across the table.

Wolf had to reopen his closed eyes at this. “Downstairs, I suppose,” he responded brusquely. And then, catching hold of the child’s hot hand as it clutched at his chin, “The wind,” he went on, “lifted all three birds from off the branch and carried them northeast, where not one of them wanted to go! Over hill and dale it carried them, towards Stonehenge. And when it had let them sink down upon the highest stone of Stonehenge, it said to them⁠—”

He was interrupted by Christie’s reappearance.

“The fly’s here, Darnley!” she cried. “Come, Olwen; let me put on your things.”

“It said to them,” Wolf concluded, “I can only take one of you to the house of my father. You must decide among yourselves which it is to be!”