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And they did see so just below them, his collar turned up to the cold But his collar was not a collar: it was a fine, illue manuscript, folded crisply His waistcoat was fashioned fro the spine; his cravat a penny dreadful folded over many times But queerest of all, the enores was the carved ebony knob of an ancient scroll, his legs were dark hyer than the Bible itself, glasses perched upon the decorated capitals of the pages: two handsoes for, blood-scarlet ribbonmark

After a moment of shock in which no one breathed and everyone clutched hands as tight as murder, all four children burst out of their stillness and tu out to hian to run froh the hundred thousand pages of his body

“Go away!” he shouted finally as they ran together, leaping over frozen puddles and knotted roots “If Captain Tree hears of this I’ll be remaindered for certain!”

“We’re dreaht, it’s a drea!”

“You can run forever in dreams,” panted Branwell, “and I think if I don’t stop soon I shall throw up!”

But finally the ma

n of books did stop, skidding to a halt before two tall soldiers, their rifles leaning on their shoulders, their gazes clear and bold, made entirely of rich broood

The fat man looked back at them in terror, then folded up his face, his collar, his cravat, his waistcoat, and his long hys He folded up so coer stood aon the moorland One soldier with painted black trousers, bent and retrieved it, tucking the volu arm

“Hullo,” said the other soldier This one had a wood-knot over his heart as though he had been shot there long ago His any mouth turned up in a sad little smile that sees “My naeant Bud But you may call us Crashey and Bravey”

Long afterward, Charlotte would try to remember how it happened, but her mind could not quite clahtily with a man made out of books, and was not at all prepared to record how one round in Yorkshire and put it down in soh a door, of that she was sure, nor was there aor pool Yet Crashey and Bravey—their own stalwart soldiers, their miniature toys!—had taken theh viridescent fronds and great pink hothouse flowers as tall as streetlalass road which lead to a palace of such grandeur it burned their eyes All along the boulevard strange obelisks rose, tipped with fire or ice or balls of blue lightning, and between thereat birds of ift of flight, bobbed and darted, crying out like mournful loons

“What is that place,” said E us? It is too dazzling! I fear it will catch fire, the sun dances upon it so”

“That is the Parsonage,” said Crashey His voice was deep and pleasant “It is where the Chief Genii of Glass Town live, and many other wonderful fine folk besides”

“That is not the Parsonage!” protested Anne, who could bear very , but could not abide a lie “We live in the Parsonage, with Papa and Aunt Elizabeth and Tabitha! It looks nothing like that!”

Indeed, this Parsonage was an edifice all of dia emerald and ruby illuminated with lamps like stars A sapphire hall opened up like a blue ht of the warh water, throwing up fountains of fitful reflections A little churchyard lay just beside it, just as it did at horavestones were perfect alabaster stippled with black pearls

“Sir, I must insist you admit this all a dream,” Branwell said crossly “If you are h silliness!”