that he was less gloomy than he had been before, and that somehow this thing seemed worth doing.
And in this way they went from place to place. As they had seen beauties and wonders the day before, they saw wonders and beauties to-day, but to-day their pleasure had a flavour new to them. For the first time in years, since they had left their little seat at their own fireside, they were not alone, and someone seemed to mean to look after them. John Holt was an eminently practical person, and when they left the Palace of the Flowers they began vaguely to realise that, stranger or not, he had taken charge of them. It was evident that he was in the habit of taking charge of people and things. He took charge of the satchel. It appeared that he knew where it was safe to leave it.
"Can we get it at lunch-time?" Robin asked, with some anxiety.
"You can get it when you want it," said John Holt.
A little later he looked at Ben's pale small face scrutinisingly.
"Look here," he said, "you're tired." And without any further question he called up a rolling chair.
"Get into that," he said.
"Me?" said Ben, a little alarmed.
"Yes."
