"But we shan't ever see you again."
Dickie admitted that this was so.
"And oh, Dickie," said Elfrida, with deep concern, "you won't ever see us again either. Think of that. Whatever will you do without us?"
"That," said Dickie, "won't be so bad as you think. The Elfrida and Edred who live in those times are as like you as two pins. No, they aren't really! Oh, don't make it any harder. I've got to do it."
There was that in his voice which silenced and convinced them. They felt that he had, indeed, to do it.
"I could never be happy here—never," he went on; "but I shall be happy there. And you'll never forget me, though there are one or two things I want you to forget. And I'm going now."
"Oh, not now; wait and think," Elfrida implored.
"I've thought of nothing else for a month," said Dickie, and began to lay out the moon-seeds on the smooth sand.
"Now," he said, when the pattern was complete, "I shall hold Tinkler and the white seal in my hand and take them with me. When I've gone, you can put the moon-seeds in your pocket and go home. When they ask you where I am, say I am in the cave. They will come and find my clothes, and they'll think I was bathing and got drowned."
"I can't bear it," said Elfrida, bursting into sobs. "I can't, and I won't."
