ot known' outside."

"What address was it?" Dickie asked.

"Laurie Grove, New Cross," Edred told him.

"Oh, that was just an address Mr. Beale made up to look grand with,"
said Dickie. "I remember his telling me about it. He's the man I live
with; I call him father because he's been kind to me. But my own daddy's
dead."

"Let's go up on the downs," said Elfrida, "and sit down, and you tell us
all about everything from the very beginning."

So they went up and sat among the furze bushes, and Dickie told them all
his story--just as much of it as I have told to you. And it took a long
time. And then they reminded each other how they had met in the magic or
dream world, and how Dickie had helped them to save their father--which
he did do, only I have not had time to tell you about it; but it is all
written in "The House of Arden."

"But our magic is all over now," said Edred sadly. "We had to give up
ever having any more magic, so as to get father back. And now we shall
never find the treasure or be able to buy back the old lands and restore
the Castle and bring the water back to the moat, and build nice, dry,
warm, cozy cottages for the tenants. But we've got father."

"Well, but look here," said Dickie. "We got _my_ magic all right, and
old nurse said I could work it for you, and that's really what I've come
for, so that we can look for the treasure together."

"That's awfully jolly of you," said Elfrida.

"What is your magic?" Edred asked; and Dickie pulled out Tinkler and the
white seal and the moon-seeds, and laid them on the turf and explained.

And in the middle of the explanation a shadow fell on the children and
the Tinkler and the moon-seeds and the seal, and there was a big,
handsome gentleman looking down at them and saying--

"Introduce your friend, Edred."

"Oh, Dickie, this is my father," cried Edred, scrambling up. And Dickie
added very quickly, "My name's Dick Harding." It took longer for Dickie
to get up because of the crutch, and Lord Arden reached his hand down to
help him. He must have been a little surprised when the crippled child
in the shabby clothes stood up, and instead of touching his forehead, as
poor children are taught to do, held out his hand and said--

"How do you do, Lord Arden?"

"I am very well, I thank you," said Lord Arden. "And where did you
spring from? You are not a native of these parts, I think?"

"No, but my adopted father is," said Dickie, "and I came from Londo