some moments, and then Kirk had a sudden, shy inspiration.
"Do you think," he ventured, "do you think it would be nice if the fountain could play, now?"
"Eh?" said Martin, waking from brooding thoughts.
"The fountain—it hasn't, you know, since you went. And the garden's been asleep ever since, just like a fairy-tale."
"A fairy-tale! H'm!" said Martin, with a queer laugh. "Well, let's wake the fountain, then."
They found the device that controlled the water, and wrenched it free. Kirk ran back down the path to listen, breathless, at the edge of the pool. There came first the rustle of water through long unused channels, then the shallow splash against the empty basin. Little by little the sound became deeper and more musical, till the still morning vibrated faintly to the mellow leap and ripple of the fountain's jubilant voice.
"Oh!" Kirk cried suddenly. "Oh, I'm happy! Aren't you, Mr. Martin?"
Martin looked down at the eager, joyous face,
