unsolved. Nor is it necessary to describe how far that series got to its

fulfilment. There were astonishing changes. The small hours found Mr.

Maydig and Mr. Fotheringay careering across the chilly market-square

under the still moon, in a sort of ecstasy of thaumaturgy, Mr. Maydig

all flap and gesture, Mr. Fotheringay short and bristling, and no longer

abashed at his greatness. They had reformed every drunkard in the

Parliamentary division, changed all the beer and alcohol to water (Mr.

Maydig had overruled Mr. Fotheringay on this point); they had, further,

greatly improved the railway communication of the place, drained

Flinder's swamp, improved the soil of One Tree Hill, and cured the

Vicar's wart. And they were going to see what could be done with the

injured pier at South Bridge. "The place," gasped Mr. Maydig, "won't be

the same place to-morrow. How surprised and thankful everyone will be!"

And just at that moment the church clock struck three.

I say," said Mr. Fotheringay, "that's three o'clock! I must be getting

back. I've got to be at business by eight. And besides, Mrs. Wimms--"

"We're only beginning," said Mr. Maydig, full of the sweetness of

unlimited power. "We're only beginning. Think of all the good we're

doing. When people wake--"

But--," said Mr. Fotheringay.

Mr. Maydig gripped his arm suddenly. His eyes were bright and wild. "My

dear chap," he said, "there's no hurry. Look"--he pointed to the moon at

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Tales of Space and Time