So that every morning when Philip woke he knew that he was waking to a new day of joyous and interesting happenings.

And this went on till Philip was ten years old, and he had no least shadow of a doubt that it would go on for ever.

The beginning of the change came one day when he and Helen had gone for a picnic to the wood where the waterfall was, and as they were driving back behind the stout old pony, who was so good and quiet that Philip was allowed to drive it.

They were coming up the last lane before the turning where their house was, and Helen said: 'To-morrow we'll weed the aster bed and have tea in the garden.' 'Jolly,' said Philip, and they turned the corner and came in sight of their white little garden gate.

And a man was coming out of it--a man who was not one of the friends they both knew.