"Oh, Glan, you will be careful, won't you?--and not get caught by the Pumpkin?" added Molly anxiously.
"Of course, little lady," Glan replied. "You should see me _run_ if I want to. I'll not get caught." He was still studying and comparing the maps. "Why, look here!" he exclaimed, "you've got the Orange Wood in your bit. Well, I never! D'you hear that, Aunt Janet? The Orange Wood.... We've got a relative who lives in that wood. I must give you his name." Glan scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to the children. "Any of the people in the village near by will direct you to his house--they all know him. Papingay's his name--I've written it down, you see. He'll be delighted to see you--tell him you know us, Aunt Janet and Father and me. But don't be surprised at his funny little ways--he's a queer old soul--a very queer old soul." Glan chuckled to himself at some recollection.
"He's a kind of cousin of Glan's father, dearies," observed Aunt Janet.
The children were glad to hear of this one person, at any rate, whom they might trust in the strange, unknown country before them.
"Be sure to humour him, though," added Glan. "He's worth it. Don't forget."
While they had been talking they had been passing through many quaint streets on their way to the East Gate: streets that on an ordinary occasion would have made Jack and Molly long to stop and explore them slowly, there were so many tempting and curious things to be seen. But there was no time for loitering now. There was serious work to be done. So they hastened along until at length the East Gate was reached.
Here Glan produced two neat little boxes of sandwiches and cakes, giving one of them to Jack and one to Molly. "A snack for lunch," he said.
"You're sure to find plenty of friends as you go along," said Aunt Janet. "But do take care of yourselves, dearies. Good luck be with you." And she fumbled for her pocket-handkerchief and dabbed her eyes rapidly, while Glan patted her on the shoulder.
"Here's to our next meeting," he cried cheerily, "and may it be soon. Who's going to light the first beacon, little lady, you or I?"
"That's the sort," cried Glan, patting Aunt Janet vigorously, as he beamed at Jack.
The keeper of the East Gate had by this time appeared and was cautiously opening the gate. Finding the way clear he opened it wide.