with her an orthodox palace of magic, as well as helpful birds
and friendly ants. Ulysses, with his captivating shifts and strategies,
broke down the final barrier, and hence forth the band was adopted and
admitted into our freemasonry. I had been engaged in chasing Farmer
Larkin's calves--his special pride--round the field, just to show the
man we hadn't forgotten him, and was returning through the
kitchen-garden with a conscience at peace with all men, when I happened
upon Edward, grubbing for worms in the dung-heap. Edward put his worms
into his hat, and we strolled along together, discussing high matters of
state. As we reached the tool-shed, strange noises arrested our steps;
looking in, we perceived Harold, alone, rapt, absorbed, immersed in the
special game of the moment. He was squatting in an old pig-trough that
had been brought in to be tinkered; and as he rhapsodised, anon he waved
a shovel over his head, anon dug it into the ground with the action of
those who would urge Canadian canoes. Edward strode in upon him.

"What rot are you playing at now?" he demanded sternly.

Harold flushed up, but stuck to his pig-trough like a man.
"I'm Jason," he replied, defiantly; "and this is the Argo. The other
fellows are here too, only you can't see them; and we're just going
through the Hellespont, so don't you come bothering." And once more he
plied the wine-dark sea.

Edward kicked the pig-trough contemptuously.

"Pretty sort of Argo you've got!" said he.

Harold began to get annoyed. "I can't help it," he replied. "It's the
best sort of Argo I can manage, and it's all right if you only pretend
enough; but YOU never could pretend one bit."

Edward reflected. "Look here," he said presently; "why shouldn't we get
hold of Farmer Larkin's boat, and go right away up the river in a real
Argo, and look for Medea, and the Golden Fleece, and everything? And
I'll tell you what, I don't mind your being Jason, as you thought of it
first."

Harold tumbled out of the trough in the excess of his emotion. "But we
aren't allowed to go on the water by ourselves," he cried.

"No," said Edward, with fine scorn: "we aren't allowed; and Jason wasn't
allowed either, I daresay--but he WENT!"

Harold's protest had been merely conventional: he only wanted to be
convinced by sound argument. The next question was, How about the girls?
Selina was distinctly handy in a boat: the difficulty about her was,
that if she disapproved of the