"
Whereupon the children deigned to notice the person behind the chair.
"We're coming up to bed now, Jackman," they mentioned casually, and
disappeared slowly from the room in a disappointed body, robbed,
unsatisfied, but very sleepy. The clock had cheated them of something
that properly was endless. Maria alone made no remark, for she was
already asleep in Jackman's comfortable arms. Maria was always
carried.
"Time's up," Tim reflected when he lay in bed; "time's always up. I do
wish we could stop it somehow," and fell asleep somewhat gratified
because he had deliberately not wound up his alarum-clock. He had the
delicious feeling--a touch of spite in it--that this would bother Time
and muddle it.
Yet Time, as a monster, chased him through a hundred dreams and thus
revenged itself. It pursued him to the very edge of the daylight, then
mocked him with a cold bath, lessons, and a windy sleet against the
windows. It was "time to get up" again.
Yet, meanwhile, Time helped and pleased the children by showing them
its pleasanter side as well. It pushed them, gently but swiftly, up
the long hill of months and landed them with growing excitement into
the open country of another year.
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